“Do you have the right key?” asked Parker.
Lennon looked at it. “Yes,” she answered, “I’m sure.”
Matthews lowered himself to eye level with the lock. “It’s bent,” he said, “I think the can of peaches has dented the front of the lock. It’s not bad, though, just the outer casing.”
Lennon looked at what Matthews was looking at. The inside of the lock was not damaged, just a portion of the face of the lock. “Give me the peaches,” she ordered, and held her hand behind her. Parker put the can in Lennon’s hand. Lennon lined the key up with the lock and lightly tapped it with the can of peaches. After initially resisting, the key quickly punched through. She turned the key and slid the door open.
Abrams was floating in his sleeping bag with his eyes closed and his mouth open. He skin was a strange grayish color and his lips were purple. She pulled him out into the center of the room and checked his pulse. “He’s still alive,” she said. A quick examination showed that he was still breathing, although they were very small breaths. “Parker, can you g—”
“I already did,” said Parker, handing Lennon a medical bag. Lennon slipped an oxygen mask over his mouth. When he did not react, she took a tube of ammonium carbonate, or smelling salt, and held it under Abrams’ nose. He winced and sucked in a gasp of air, then screamed.
“His fan’s not working,” said Dish, peering into the sleeping area. “He was suffocating in his own expelled air.”
“My head,” Abrams moaned. “It’s killing me.”
“It’s the oxygen deprivation,” said Lennon, “you’re going to have quite a migraine. I’ll get you something for it.”
“Why’d you use smelling salts?” Parker asked. “He wasn’t knocked out.”
“Surprisingly, most people’s reaction to ammonium carbonate is to inhale. I just wanted him to get the oxygen in him.” She looked to Matthews. “Sir, could you dim the lights a little bit?”
Matthews obeyed and Abrams squinted at Lennon. “What happened?”
“I don’t know, Kyle. It looks like your fan quit.”
“No,” he said, and waved his hand as if dismissing the thought. The buzzing stopped.
“I’m lookin’ right at it, Abrams,” said Dish. “It’s not working.”
“That’s impossible. It would have alarmed.”
“It did alarm. The alarm just turned off.”
“No, that’s the CO2 alarm. The fan alarm beeps.”
“We got too many alarms,” Dish complained. “That’s what the problem is.”
“No,” argued Abrams, and then moaned again. “Didn’t you study the alarm signals? You should know this.”
They should know this, but most of them did not. There was just too much to remember and Abrams did such a good job that none of them ever had to. Lennon made a mental note to study the alarm signals.
She got Abrams some water and medicine. She wondered if he realized how lucky he was that things had not turned out worse.
Abrams floated in front of Lennon in the Atrium. He had recovered well, and she could tell that he was itching to get this over with so that he could return to duty.
“So can you sign me off?” he asked. “I’d like to get back to work.”
“I don’t see why not,” she answered. “But if I could, I would like to ask a few questions first.”
He squirmed a little bit, but agreed. She studied him carefully. “Why did you lock your sleeping area?” she asked. “Matthews is right, no one does that.” She left out the fact that she had started locking her personal area while she slept. “I know from past discussions that you and I have had that you don’t usually lock anything.”
His body immediately tensed and he stammered when he answered. “I just felt like locking it, that’s all.”
She appraised his demeanor and knew that he was hiding something. “Why?” she pressed.
“I just wanted some privacy.”
“You can have privacy without a lock. Why the lock, Kyle?”
He sighed. “Look, it’s stupid, ok? I don’t want you thinking there is something wrong with me when there isn’t.”
“I haven’t seen anything that would make me think that there is something wrong with you. My analysis is a whole body analysis, not based on single statements,” she reassured him. “I’m not looking to strike your mission ready status. Part of my job is to help with any issues that the crew is having. If something makes you uncomfortable enough that you feel you need to lock your door, that something needs addressed. I want you to feel safe and secure in this ship. I’m sure the rest of the crew would agree.”
“It’s just a dream that I had.”
“Tell me about it.”
“I had a dream two nights ago. I woke up, and Parker was in my sleeping area with me. She was floating really close, you know, there is not a lot of room for two people in there.”
“Go ahead.”
“Well, I woke with a start. In my dream, I awoke, anyway, and her face was right in front of mine. At first, I thought that she wanted to…you know…get more familiar. However, as she looked me in the eyes, she had a smile that just sent chills down my spine. She reached up and touched my lip, and whispered to me.”
“What did she say? In this dream.”
“She said I was going to die. Then she laughed, full and bubbly, that charming laugh that she has, and she kissed me. After that, the dream ended.”
Lennon frowned. She wondered if what she had seen was a dream. The longer it had been since the incident, the more she doubted that what she had seen was real. However, even if it were all a dream, wasn’t it too strange to believe that they both had randomly dreamed similar dreams of the same person?
She waited a moment before speaking. “Are you sure it was a dream?”
His face immediately clouded over and his eyebrows came together, turning the crease between his eyes into two dark lines. “That’s not funny, Lennon. I’m trying to be serious here. Is this what you do when people open up?”
“No,” she said, “I’m not trivializing it. I… I had a similar… experience.”
“It wasn’t an ‘experience’; it was just a dream, ok? She’s been on quarters. You would have noticed her leaving at night. Others would have seen her come in the Men’s Quarters. Look, I didn’t even want to talk about it. Can I go now?” He had shut down. She was not going to get any more information from him today.
“You can go. Thank you.”
He left the Atrium without speaking further.
“You know a lot of people suspect you for the things that have been going on lately,” Lennon said, letting the words sink in. “How does that make you feel?”
“I hate it,” replied Parker. I had some problems with drugs, with coping, that’s all. I didn’t sabotage anything. I didn’t hurt anyone—at least not until the intervention by you and the Major.” She lowered her voice. “I’m sorry about that.”
“Have you ever visited the Men’s Quarters without being asked?”
“No! Well, actually, there was one time that I followed Dish. I considered that an implicit invitation.”
“Have you been in anyone else’s sleeping area?”
“No! Why are you interrogating me?”
Lennon tried to calm her down. “It’s not an interrogation. I’m sorry. These accusations are flying around. I have to find a way to stop these rumors. The best way to do that is to go to the source, to hear it directly from you. I am working in your best interest. I have no disciplinary authority, and by law, there is patient confidentiality. I can’t divulge details of official medical interviews without your consent, unless the information presents an immediate danger to yourself or the crew.”
Parker relaxed slightly. “There are only five people on this ship,” she explained. “It would be impossible for one person to be responsible for all of the things I am accused of without being detected. This is a witch hunt.” She scratched her neck, and Lennon noticed that her hands had a slight
tremble. “It’s causing me so much stress. I don’t understand why nobody likes me.”
“It’s not that nobody likes you, Parker. Everyone is experiencing a lot of stress. I’ll talk to the commander and see what we can do to get the crew—you included—more cohesive and unified.”
“Could you tell everyone to stop blaming me?”
“I will talk to the commander.”
“Thank you, Lennon.”
Lennon completed a full physical examination of Parker and found no physical problems. She seemed to be recovering well after being weaned from the improper use of the medication. In fact, she was in perfect health for the environment. Lennon dismissed Parker, and once she was alone, fell deep into thought once she was alone.
She could feel the stress rising inside of her. The whole ship pulsated with it. She felt so inadequate, so unprepared for all of this. She wondered how in the world she was going to do her job in a way that was fair and beneficial to the entire crew.
It was all Lennon could do to make it back to Crew Quarters. She had developed tunnel vision, and was only able to see objects directly in front of her. Her heart was racing, and it felt like she was not getting enough air. Trying to take deep breaths only aggravated the problem; it served only to demonstrate that she was not processing enough air through her lungs. If she thought about it, she knew it would only make the anxiety worse.
She shouldered past Abrams as he returned from the Gearbox. “What’s with you?” he asked, but she was unable to answer. Instead, she pressed forward to the Women’s Quarters.
She made it inside and clamped the door shut, rotating the lever to latch it closed. She put her hands over her mouth to try to prevent hyperventilation. She wished she had a paper bag.
There was no rational explanation for it, no reason for the anxiety. Recent events had elevated her stress level, but there was no reason for this attack. It made her feel angry and helpless, and the feeling of helplessness only increased the effects of the attack. She jumped to her sleeping area, slid the door shut, locked it, and turned off the lights.
She could hear her breathing, short and quick. She could also hear her pulse, racing in her neck and chest. She fumbled in the darkness for her media player. After finding it, she quickly put the headphones on and pressed ‘play’. As the music started, she drifted to the corner of the bunk and waited in the dark for the attack to pass.
It was six hours until the attack abated and she was able to leave the room. Her first stop was the toilet, and she was thankful that the anxiety attack stopped when it did. She would not have been able to last much longer without relieving herself, and that kind of accident would have been difficult to hide. Surprisingly, no one seemed to notice that she had been gone. Abrams had been going back and forth between the flight deck and the Gearbox, Parker had been busy with a microscope in the Atrium, and the pilots were involved in some sort of deep analysis of the ship systems. Lennon spoke of the attack to no one.
Day Ninety-Two
It was already one in the morning, technically the official beginning of a new day, but still part of day ninety-one in Lennon’s mind. She laid still, awake, her jaw clenched, and her muscles tense. She had observed the crew during the day, and it scared her. Everyone was watching each other, suspicious and wary. Tension was high. The crew was doing very little work. Only Parker seemed unaffected, smiling and laughing her charming little laugh that made Lennon cringe but caused the males to not only believe anything that she said, but also to rush to volunteer to help her with any petty project that she was working on.
Since the anxiety attack, Lennon was uneasy, on edge, and unable to focus. It was as if the anxiety attack never stopped, it just let up enough for her to walk around and interact with people. Dish had talked with her earlier, in whispers.
“That wasn’t right,” he had said.
“What do you mean?”
“Abrams. Why was his bunk locked?”
She shrugged. “Maybe he wanted privacy.”
“That’s bull. You shut your door for privacy. You lock it when you’re afraid.”
“What was Abrams afraid of, Dish?”
He sniffed and rubbed his nose with his knuckle. “I’m tellin’ ya, that girl is demon possessed. She’s up to something.”
“Parker? Come on, Dish, you told me yourself you don’t believe in a soul. Listen to what you are saying.”
“I know I said I didn’t believe in a soul, alright? I lied. I just don’t want to believe in a God that lets people suffer. If Parker is not demon possessed, then she is outta her mind.”
“Why, Dish? What has she done that can’t be explained medically? She had nitrogen narcosis. She had some trouble adjusting. She stole some pills. That’s all.”
“Is it?” He stared at her intently.
“Dish, please! I can’t make recommendations on hunches. What is significant about her behavior that makes you think Abrams was afraid of it?”
He leaned in and talked in a hushed tone. “Ok, Abrams came up to me the other day, right? And he says, ‘Parker, she’s not right.’ So I ask ’im what he means. You remember how she was all talkin’ in tongues and stuff, right? The first time we had to tie her up?”
Lennon nodded. He continued, “Anyways, he says that she has been coming into his sleeping area at night, while he’s sleeping, so that he wakes up and she’s in there with him, just floating and staring. Not saying anything right off, just floating, and staring. So he asks her, ‘What do you want?’ And she just says ‘death’. That’s it. She goes away and he thinks that she’s sleepwalkin’ or sump’n’. Then it happens again, and he wakes up to find her grinning at him, and scratchin’ ’im. Says it hurt like nothin’ else. He asks her what she’s doin’ and she makes like she’s comin’ on to him. But the look on her face scared him so bad that he told her to leave. After that, he started lockin’ his bunk.”
“You were in a relationship with her, Dish. What happened with that?”
“She started actin’ funny. ’Member the thing in the ChowBucket? You know, when she started dancin’? I just got this weird feelin’, like she wanted us to fight, and like she enjoyed it. I stopped spending so much time with her after that. She’s causin’ trouble, Lennon, and she’s enjoyin’ it. I swear, if she comes in my bunk…” he caught Lennon’s disapproving eye and did not finish his sentence. “Well, if she scratches me she’ll get a lot more than a scratchin’ in return, I’ll tell ya that. I won’t hit a lady, but crazy demon possessed people, that’s a diff’rnt story.”
Lennon talked to Abrams later in the day. He was vague and shifty, and avoided direct questions about Parker. His only comment about her was “Ever since she cut up those pepper plants, she’s been a little loopy.” She pressed him on why he thought Parker was the one who cut the pepper plants, and he simply shrugged.
“What caused your fan to fail?” she had asked.
“There’s nothing wrong with the system. Everything checks out. It’s got to be a glitch in the code.”
“What could cause that?”
“A single event upset,” he said weakly, as if he was unconvinced of his own report.
When Dish heard about the diagnosis by Abrams, he nearly went ballistic. “Single event upset?” he screamed. “There’s nothing ‘single’ about it. There’s lots ’a things a’breakin’. Someone is doin’ this, and I have a pretty good idea who.” With this, he gave a long glare at Parker.
“Whatever, Dish,” Parker argued, “I’m a geologist, not a programmer. I can’t code to save my life. I certainly can’t emit the high energy particles that cause an SEU.”
For a moment, Lennon thought that Dish might move physically against Parker. Matthews had to get between Parker and Dish. After a few minutes, Abrams was able to calm Dish down by reminding him that SEUs, while rare, can occur more than once.
Lennon was surprised to see that of all of the crewmembers—besides Matthews—Parker now seemed to be the most in control of her emotions
and behavior. Lennon had to do something about the situation on crew. It had been nearly two days since she slept, and she knew that if she did not sleep, making a mistake in her work would be the least of her worries. If she were to remain awake long enough, she would start to experience sleep-induced hallucinations—essentially “waking dreams”, the process of dreaming while awake—or she might lose the ability to make quick decisions. She was worried that the rest of the crew was anticipating the same problems, and that fear would elevate the stress level further. The waking dreams might have already started, at least for her, and possibly for Abrams.
Anxiety, fear, and panic suddenly built up inside of her and overcame her. Beads of sweat began to form on her forehead. She pushed herself out of bed and went to C2. She folded down the keyboard and began typing frantically. Feeling a train wreck coming but unable to stop it, she typed out a message.
She stared at the completed message for a long time. She did not know how long she stared, but she did know that she had zoned out for a period of time. Finally, she decided that she should not send it. In a swift, decisive motion, she moved to click ‘discard’ and then realized with a gasp that she had pushed the wrong button—the one she had pressed was clearly marked ‘send’. What did she just send? She thought she had sent the weekly health status, but she vaguely remembered typing an additional concern about the crew. Whatever it was, it was too late now. She suddenly felt very tired, a feeling she had not felt in a while. She made her way to the Women’s Quarters and slept well for the rest of the night.
TRANSMISSION: START
Mission Control Station
Incoming message from Seeker 3. Day 92, Receipt time 0737z, 0337 mission time
Subject: Special request for action
From: Dr. Rebecca Lennon, physical and mental health officer, Seeker 3
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Crew status: degraded
Single Event Upset Page 14
