Was everything I knew a lie after all?
“I didn’t say anything to August about it. It broke the boy’s heart to lose you in the first place, and I didn’t want to get his hopes up until I’d talked to you. You can tell him if you like.”
I hated listening to his voice. He’d ruined everything about my life. But—but—he was my father. He was. And he was trying to help me.
A sob broke from my throat.
He touched my shoulder. “I understand if you need some time alone.”
“I do.”
Standing up, he folded the DNA readouts and put them back in his uniform pocket. “I’m sorry I had to tell you this way, Andi. If only those two hadn’t...”
“It’s all right. I understand.” I didn’t care why he’d done things the way he had, I only wanted to be alone.
“I’ll see you later,” he replied, and then he left.
I sank to the floor, crying quietly. How could the world change in only ten minutes? Nothing would ever be right again. I tried hard to sort out my thoughts and emotions about what had just passed, but failed. I gave up at last and just kept crying, my knees drawn up to my chest.
Of everything I’d learned in the two conversations, what bothered me most was not that I had had a deadly disease since birth, that I now had people after me to take the cure for that disease away, or that the unnerving Commander Howitz, who I barely knew, was my father. What bothered me most was the Doctor.
My father was alive, and fully able to care for me, so who could have left me on the Doctor’s doorstep? But then—how had he really gotten me? And why?
The only solution I could think of was the one the Commander had suggested. The Doctor wanted to figure out how to recreate the cure for himself.
But if that was the case—had he even tried? If he’d tried, wouldn’t I have known about it? Unless he’d only done it when I was very little, and had then given up.
Thinking back over our years together, and the many ways he’d cared for me, could I really believe that he would intentionally hurt me?
I recalled the two faces, side by side in my mind. Commander Howitz, smiling, with his small dark eyes and short dark hair, and the thick eyebrows raised at me. Then the Doctor, his thin face, gray eyes looking lovingly into mine, and one corner of his mouth raised in an affectionate smile.
Raising my head, I sniffed. “God,” I whispered. It was all I said out loud, all I could bring myself to say, but I figured He’d understand. I needed Him, badly, more than I’d ever needed him before. I hadn’t felt the need for His help lately—but I did now, more than I’d ever needed anything in my life.
There were still so many unanswered questions. Why had my knee suddenly begun hurting, when the radialloy had never bothered me before? I’d had a few twinges in that knee about a month ago, but they were so mild I’d thought nothing of it. What had happened to my mother? Should I tell the Captain about Peat and Sigmet? Should I let Commander Howitz take the radialloy? And should I leave here with him?
Misery swept over me. I didn’t think I could stand being with him for the rest of my life—leaving everything I’d ever known and loved behind.
I stayed there for a long time, just sitting, thinking, praying. I had only wanted things to go back to the way they had been—the way I loved—but now, that was impossible.
“Doctor Lloyd?”
I jumped up, and out of habit began to look for the Doctor, before remembering that he wasn’t there. I rubbed my rough sleeve across my eyes and tried to speak calmly to the pale officer who stood in the doorway. “The Doctor is resting. Is there something I can help you with?”
He only needed a mild burn looked after, and I was glad to be able to bury myself in helping him, not just sit there feeling sorry and confused and frightened.
It took longer than it should have, and it must have been over an hour later that I finally dismissed him and began changing the sheets. With every motion, my thoughts went to the Doctor. I was used to him being there when I worked—sometimes commenting, sometimes asking my help, sometimes saying nothing, just working, the two of us.
How was he doing now? I was afraid to find out. But I was starting to feel that if I didn’t talk to somebody about what was going on, I was going to explode.
Without thinking, I let my feet carry me out of sickbay. It was too painful to stay there, since I couldn’t look at anything without thinking of the Doctor, and of my conflicting feelings and beliefs about him. I went on, down the hall, up the elevator to A-Deck, and from there to the bridge.
I slipped in, wishing I could just quietly find a seat, but regulations had to be observed, so I said, “Second medical officer on the bridge, sir.”
“Andi!” the Captain smiled. “How’s your father doing?”
“He’s still resting,” I said, trying to make my voice sound light and casual, and failing miserably.
He gave me a strange look, but turned back to the fore, only saying, “What are you doing here?”
“I was finished in sickbay, and thought I’d see if I could help out here.”
Still preoccupied with the fore view, he gestured to the monitor’s station. “Mr. Kane is taking a short break; you might fill in for a moment. There’s probably nothing going on, but...”
“Yes sir,” I said, as his sentence dwindled into nothingness. It couldn’t hurt. And at the moment, I welcomed any task. Sliding into the chair on the far right of the spacious room, I made sure all the monitors were activated, and proceeded to keep my eye on them for any problem that might pop up in any of the ship’s sections.
Even my admittedly untrained eye could see at a glance that all systems were normal, other than the one thruster that was still down and offline. I leaned back in the chair and stole a glance at August, who worked quietly and systematically at the navigations panel.
My brother. The thought rose to the top of my mind, persistently. It was strange to even think the word—but if Commander Howitz were really my father, and I had no doubt of that, then it naturally followed that August was my brother.
What had happened to our mother? Was she still alive? If not, how had she...
A soft beeping started up in front of me, making me come back to the real world. I looked at my station to try to discover the source of it, and saw a red blip on the engineering monitor, blinking away and beeping persistently.
Frowning, I pulled the engineering systems to the main monitor and looked more closely at the blip. It seemed to indicate a power loss to the security systems at the source.
“Captain?” I called, standing.
He was giving an order and didn’t hear me. I tried calling louder. “Captain?”
This time, he turned to me. “Yes, what is it?”
For an answer, I pointed to the blip. Then I said, “There seems to be a problem in engineering-I think the security systems.”
Crinkling his brow, he stood up and stepped to the monitors. “That’s impossible. How could...” He stared at the screen. “You’re right. Power loss there... and there!” He pointed to another blip that had just appeared. “Data transfer systems as well. Guilders, slow to propulsion ten.”
“Aye sir.”
“There was no alert,” he mumbled, leaning forward and selecting information on the damage. “There go the communication systems!”
Another red light popped onto the screen. He pulled up his wristcom, dialed, and began to speak. “Commander Howitz, what...”
Before he could finish his sentence, the lights on the bridge went out, leaving our faces eerily illuminated by the computer screens and control lights.
XIV
August cried out in surprise as the lights went out, and Guilders spoke more urgently than was his wont. “Captain, we have no warp power.”
Swearing under his breath, the Captain groped along the walls until he came to a compartment in the wall and pulled out two electric lanterns. Handing one to me, he said, “Lieutenant, keep a straight course.
Mr. Guilders, keep her at high propulsion.”
“Yes sir,” they said in unison.
“Andi, you’d better get down to sickbay,” he urged. “Someone might be hurt.”
“Yes sir.” Holding the lantern out in front of me, I began slowly making my way through the dark bridge.
When I reached the door, however, it wouldn’t open. I started to tell the Captain, when the lights blinked on, and a familiar gravelly voice spoke from the intercom, half obscured by static. “Captain, one side of the main reactor has burned out. I’ve managed to transfer partial solar power to the lights and communication systems, but the warp, data control subsystems, and security are still down, and it looks like we might be losing shields and thermal control, also.”
Gritting his teeth, the Captain dropped into his chair and spoke. “If you can salvage anything, Commander, keep the thermal control running, that’s the most important. Why didn’t the alert sound?”
“Data transfer went out first. Everything’s going to be slow.”
I turned off my lantern and said quickly, “Captain, the door...”
After a quick glance at me, he spoke into the intercom on his chair arm again. “Get power to the doors right away, Commander.”
“Aye, sir.”
“Slow to propulsion five, Mr. Guilders. We can’t drain the power any more than necessary.”
“Aye, sir.”
Order after order was given, and there was an air of tension all through the bridge. In that moment, as I stood waiting by the door, it came to me that the Doctor hadn’t called to see if I was all right. Usually, he would have been calling me as soon as there was a problem to see where I was and how I was doing, but my wristcom hadn’t so much as beeped since this whole thing started. Was he all right?
I leaned against the door and nearly fell through when it slid open. As I regained my balance, I called, “The doors are working now, Captain!”
Normally I would have received a good-natured laugh in response to this, but he had too much on his mind. “Very well, get down to sickbay immediately.”
“Yes sir.” I jumped out the doors and hurried through the halls and down the elevator.
Contrary to the Captain’s fears, there was no one who needed tending. Often during failures, crewmen would get caught in malfunctioning machinery, or badly bruised and jarred by the bumps and jolts. But not this time. At least not yet.
I felt strangely apprehensive, standing there all alone in the middle of sickbay. Something wasn’t right, I could feel it. Something new—it was more than my knee or my father, or any of those problems I’d already been aware of. Something just wasn’t right. Power didn’t fail without warning and for no reason, and the chance of all one-hundred-twelve crew members remaining uninjured was poor to nonexistent.
The sound of running water from the direction of the sanitation room nearly made me jump out of my skin. I stumbled slightly, then caught myself on the end of one of the cots. Who was in there?
I waited, heart still beating rapidly from the start I’d received. The water shut off, and I felt apprehension as I waited for the whirring, gusty sound of the drier.
It didn’t come.
Instead, I heard slow, weary footsteps, and the Doctor appeared in the doorway, his hands and face moist.
My heart pounded fiercely as I stared at him. He stared back, peering, and the confused, almost frightened look on his face as he looked at me almost broke my heart.
“Remind me again of your name?” he said at last, and his voice was utterly lost.
Forgetting about my father, my questions and everything else, I rushed to him and caught his hand in both of mine. It was slippery with lingering water. “It’s me, Andi. Don’t you know me, Doctor?”
“Andi. Yes.” But he didn’t look as though he understood. “I think... patients all gone... Trent called...”
“Why can’t you remember anything?” I cried, finding I had to say something, anything to keep him from going on in that lost manner.
He shook his head sadly. “I don’t know what you mean. I’m just so confused. Help me, please.” He pulled his hands away and buried his face in them.
“I will. Lay down, I’ll do a scan.”
“A scan? What kind of scan are you going to do?” His bewildered look remained, but he lay down on the nearest cot submissively.
“I’ll use the new CMR scanner. Just stay here, I’ll be right back.”
Hurrying towards the primary medical cabinet, I opened the drawer where the scanners were supposed to be. The drawer was empty. “Where did you put the new scanner?” I asked.
He sat up slightly. “I don’t know what you mean.”
Realizing that asking him anything would be useless, I tried to figure out where it might be. Remembering that he had been in the sanitation room just before he’d come into sickbay, I checked there.
There were puddles of water all over the floor and the counter, and one of the sinks was full of water. I drained it, fighting to keep my heart from plummeting, and spotted the scanner lying in a puddle of water nearby. I hastily picked it up and dried it thoroughly, but to my dismay, it wouldn’t turn on. I’d have to find the other one.
Looking around the room, I strove to divorce my feelings from my mind. I couldn’t worry about the Doctor’s condition right now, what I needed to focus on was helping him.
The other scanner didn’t appear to be in the room, so I went back out to look around for it. When I got there, I saw that the Doctor had stood up and was taking his jacket off a peg on the wall.
“Doctor, what are you doing? I thought you were going to wait for a scan?”
He looked at me, and I saw with a sense of relief that his expression was normal, although tired. The lost look was gone.
“I’m fine. I just need some rest.”
“I’d feel more comfortable if I could just give you a scan, Doctor. It won’t take long.”
He hung his coat back up. “All right.”
I hurried through the otherwise deserted sickbay, looking beside each cot and in each medical cabinet. I finally found it in the personal effects box of one of the stations. This worried me. Clearly, he didn’t know what he was doing, which meant he definitely shouldn’t be treating anyone.
I ran back to him just as he was getting up again. “Doctor, please lay down,” I said urgently.
“Why?” Once again, his eyes were bewildered. “I want to go to my quarters.”
I laid my hand firmly on his shoulder, forcing myself to speak professionally. He’s just a patient, just another patient... “Just let me do a scan quickly, please.”
He lay down again, and when I tried to switch the scanner on this time, it worked. I connected it to his monitor and began moving it slowly, a couple of inches away from his head.
Not moving, he stared at the ceiling, a vacant look in his eyes. I kept my eyes on his monitor, looking for anything out of the ordinary.
At first, nothing seemed at all unusual. Everything looked perfectly normal. I was about to move on to another part of the body, when something caught my eye.
I moved the scanner back to the middle of the forehead. There seemed to be a slight movement-a feeble vibration of various regions of the cerebral cortex, including the medial temporal lobe. Medial temporal lobe... I struggled to remember its functions. Long-term memory...
I looked at the monitor again, and pressed a section of the screen to magnify the image. Yes, definitely an unusual vibration. It was irregular, and spasmodic, and unlike anything I’d ever seen.
I intensified scanner power to seven points, to focus in on his cerebrum. That didn’t reveal anything to show me the cause of the vibration.
I glanced at his face. He had closed his eyes, and lay with his hands stiffly at his sides, his face wearing a restless frown.
Focusing the scanner even further, I studied the right cerebral hemisphere closely, looking for any similar movements of the hippocampus, also related to memory. As exp
ected, there was a slight vibration.
I studied the other hemisphere as well, but there was nothing wrong there. The Doctor was left-handed, so his cerebral dominance must be the right hemisphere.
Turning the scanner off, I laid it down and sat slowly on the cot next to his, severely perplexed. What did it mean? Obviously there was something wrong with his memory.
He opened his eyes, and I saw with a sinking heart that he looked even more confused and lost than before. “Can I go now?”
“Yes, I think you’d better get some rest, Doctor.”
My heart ached as he nodded mechanically, got up and walked out, leaving his jacket hanging on the wall. He was acting like he either didn’t know me, or didn’t care anything about me. I longed to run into his arms, to hear his gruff voice reassuring me, to know that he loved me. But he didn’t say another word. He just left.
“Goodnight, Doctor,” I whispered. Then I bowed my head and tried to make sense of my raging emotions for a moment.
“Andi!”
I stiffened. It was him.
“Yes sir?” Not turning around, I steeled myself for anything. This emotional roller coaster was getting to be too much for me.
Footsteps rushed towards me, and I turned in surprise. His face was intelligent, though his forehead was lined and the circles under his eyes were as dark and long as before. He caught up my left hand and gripped it in both his. “Andi!”
“What? What is it?” I cried. What did he have to say? Something about Langham’s Disease and my past? His memory loss?
“You... you...” A shadow swept over his face, blotting out the assurance, and he blinked at me, the spark of intellect in his eyes dulling rapidly. “You... can’t.”
“Can’t what? What can’t I do?”
He looked down at me, confusion and clarity struggling on his face. “You can’t—something about—Emmett. No—Erasmus.”
Erasmus. Howitz. My father.
“What about Erasmus?” I asked, trying to keep my voice from rising.
“You can’t.”
“Can’t what?” I cried.
Firmament: Radialloy Page 9
