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Narrative

A Little Bit of Good News

Peter Caudell was just settling into his office to review some new designs when there was a tap on the door frame. He looked up to find one of the guys from Medical standing there.

“Just wanted to let you know, that guy down at Schirrasburg has tested clean. Apparently he just picked up an ordinary stomach bug.”

“That’s good to know. So when do they reopen their spaceport? I’ve heard they’re having some supply problems down there.”

“They were ready to open it back up tomorrow, but Johnson wants them to wait three days and test him again. Apparently that test has a higher false-negative rate than the big brains like.”

Peter didn’t like the news — he had some friends stuck over there, and they’d been talking about basic stuff running short. Bad enough that there’d been a fight over a roll of toilet paper that left both guys in the brig for the night, and rumint said certain women would put themselves out for a vacuum-sealed packet of coffee.

However, he could also understand the need for caution. Even ordinary diseases like the common cold would sweep through an entire settlement every time it showed up. He remembered more than one incident from his first stay up here, back when he had new-minted gold wings and the Roosa Barracks was just “the moonbase.”

“Let them know that we’ll be ready to resume shipments as soon as we’ve got the all-clear.”

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Narrative

The Weight of Knowledge

Spruance Del Curtin would’ve liked to continue his text conversation with Chandler Armitage. However, there’d been no way to prolong it when he had an air shift to do.

And there was also the problem of broaching the subject he really wanted to discuss. Especially now that he’d been moved into a position where he actually knew what those data sets represented, Dr. Doorne had reiterated even more strenuously the absolute importance of information security.

Which was a completely reasonable requirement if her concern was that he’d go blabbing to all his buddies so that they’d be suitably impressed with the Important Work he was doing. He was no statistician, but he could see some very dangerous trends in those numbers. Implications that could very well create the very panic they were working to forestall.

On the other hand, it was a very different matter to be discussing it with Chandler, who was a naval aviator and a pilot-astronaut with enough background to actually understand what he was looking at, instead of just getting scared by those numbers and freaking out. But if someone were to gain access to his text records, they’d just see that he’d broken security and never notice or care about the qualifications of the person on the other end of the connection.

Which meant he needed to sit tight for the next three and a half hours, doing his air shift as if nothing were at all out of the ordinary — well, other than the fact that they were trying to keep a pandemic off the Moon. Once he got off shift, he could head down to Innsmouth Sector and talk to Chandler face to face — or at least as close to it as was possible with a sheet of moonglass between them and separate air circulation systems.

Maybe he’d better check and make sure whatever system transmitted their words didn’t have a record function. Damn, but it would be embarrassing to have a long talk with Chandler, and then discover every word of it was recorded and could be used to hang him out to dry.

Hadn’t one of the really early space station crews gotten into trouble because a conversation they’d assumed to be private was captured by the on-board recorders and was subsequently transmitted back to JSC for examination?

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Narrative

Under a Shadow

Although Lou Corlin understood why Brenda Redmond had insisted on being the only one to take her friend’s situation to Medlab, he really wished she’d let him join her. It wasn’t like he was a little kid who needed to be protected from potential fallout. He was a legal adult, and he was accustomed to shouldering adult responsibilities.

Still, once Brenda had made that decision, he pretty much had to respect it. She hadn’t completely shut him out of the loop — she’d let him know that higher-ups on Medstaff were looking at the situation, which indicated that she hadn’t gotten into immediate trouble. But she’d made it clear to him that she wanted him to stay out of it from here on out, if only to protect him from any possible fallout.

So here he was at the station offices, having finished his air shift, listening to the Timeline Brothers cracking jokes and generally cutting up. The Alternative Lunch was both alternative music and alternate history, and today’s book was about a world in which space exploration stopped after the early lunar landings instead of consolidating those gains for a push to Mars. Needless to say, the Timeline Brothers pretty clearly considered the whole idea ridiculous. Why would either the US or the old USSR put all that much money and effort into building a space infrastructure to go to the Moon, and then abandon it all?

Except he recalled something Cather Hargreaves had said when talking about their ur-brother’s narrow escape and its historical significance, which only made sense if one presupposed that such a world did indeed exist. Lou knew that Cather and his family listened to Shepardsport Pirate Radio pretty often, even if it wasn’t exactly a station in good odor with command over at Grissom City. What would Cather think to hear those remarks?

As Lou came out to the front office, he noticed Cindy Margrave gathering up her belongings. She was usually out by the time he’d finished the handoff and logged his final set of songs, but today she must’ve had to deal with something at the last minute and was running late.

“How are things going?”

“As well as they can, given the situation.” Cindy was trying to sound positive, probably from the habits of working here, even if she was now off duty.

“Want to walk to the dining commons together and talk?”

Cindy hesitated, then agreed that, given they both worked here, it would probably pass muster as professional rather than personal.

After a little shop talk, Lou finally broached the subject more directly. “How’s things going with Amy?”

Cindy glanced away, a momentary visual flinch. “We’re in contact, but they still won’t let her have her phone back. Everything’s coming through someone at that makeshift orphanage of theirs, like they don’t trust her to communicate directly.”

“And they’re probably acting like you should be grateful they allow her to communicate at all with someone who’s under a Writ of Expulsion.” Lou might not work in the newsroom, but he was all too aware of the political situation.

“Ain’t that the truth.” Cindy was definitely shedding her professional receptionist persona and letting her teenage self back out. “I don’t think the people running that place appreciate the idea that one of their charges has connections. They don’t dare completely cut her off from the outside universe, but they sure want to make sure only things that make them look good get out.”

“Color me shocked.” Although Lou wasn’t usually much for sarcasm, right now it seemed appropriate.

Then he switched back to a more serious tone. “So how are her folks doing?”

“Not well. Apparently her dad didn’t make it, and even if her mom pulls through, she’s going to need a lot of regeneration. And that’s assuming she can even get it, and they don’t just go here’s your wheelchair, here’s your prosthetics.”

“Which means that in either case, she’s not going to be in any shape to take custody of her children for a long time, and with things in such complete chaos, there’s no way to get in contact with extended family unless they’re right there in Houston.”

“Which they aren’t, as I understand. She’s got grandparents somewhere in Kansas or Nebraska, but that’s assuming they haven’t succumbed to that virus. Even if travel weren’t pretty much shut down right now, there’s no way they’d be sending children off to stay with elderly and vulnerable family members. So it looks like she’s going to be stuck indefinitely, with the staff being as crazy controlling as Brenda’s afraid her friend’s parents are.”

“Not a good situation. But at least it sounds like she’s alive and healthy, and this thing isn’t sweeping through that place like a prairie fire through dry grass.”

Cindy admitted that it did appear that way, as long as the staff wasn’t fabricating responses in an effort to conceal a far worse situation. In any case, they were approaching the entrance to the dining commons. It was probably best for them to enter separately, since they’d probably sit with their own friends and family.

Categories
Narrative

A Promised Meeting

Getting back to Shepardsport had proven harder than Chandler Armitage had anticipated. He’d been supposed to fly straight back, but just as he was heading down to do the final checks on his lander, he’d gotten the word that he was needed to take some parts and supplies out to a minor outpost that had experienced a critical failure. Yes, they did have backup systems, but those systems are like a spare tire on a car. They’re designed to carry you far enough to get your primary systems repaired or replaced, no more.

At least the people at the outpost had the necessary skill sets to do the repair on their own, so the delivery was just a matter of using a robot to set the boxes out on the lunar regolith. The settlers had send their own robot out to retrieve them, and all communication had been via radio. Neither Chandler nor his pilot had needed to get out of the lander, let alone enter the outpost’s habitat.

In the old days — had it only been a few months? Already it felt like an eternity ago — they probably would’ve been welcomed inside, maybe even fed supper and invited to stay overnight to rest. Most modern outposts had a sufficiently elastic oxygen budget that they could extend hospitality to the occasional visitors. It wasn’t just a matter of building in redundancy to absorb shocks, although that was an important engineering principle. There was also the human factor, the need to make connections with the larger world at a personal level, not just voices on a speaker and images on a screen.

A problem that remained even now that he was home — or at least as much home as this settlement could ever be. He still felt homesick for his native New Hampshire, and wondered what had become of his mother when President Flannigan had cracked down on the Granite State’s resistance to his policies against clones and replaced her with a governor of his own choosing.

It always comes back worst when I’m not busy. He considered that thought. Normally he would have plenty to occupy himself. Not just his professional duties, overseeing the maintenance of his lander, keeping himself up to date on training and his secondary specialty, but also social activities here or in whatever settlement he was visiting.

But the current crisis meant that last was no longer an option. He understood why it was necessary for the pilots to stay down here, away from the rest of the settlement. Hell, some of the scuttlebutt he was hearing from his old flying buddies from his carrier days was downright terrifying. But the loss of his usual diversions made it altogether too easy to brood.

On the other hand, he did have some unfinished business to take care of. Although he’d been raised in a regular family — or as regular as a family can be when one parent is a senior politician — he appreciated the importance of astronaut lineages among his clone-brothers who’d grown up in the NASA clone creche.

Yes, there was Spruance Del Curtin’s text. Might as well see if he was where he could talk about whatever the data was that was bothering him so much.

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Narrative

Disappointment

At least we’re doing this privately. Brenda Redmond still felt like a kid called to the principal’s office, sitting in Dr. Thuc’s private office in the back recesses of Medlab.

The older woman gave her a sad look, the sort Brenda had come to associate with an authority figure who had expected better of you. Maybe it had been a mistake to bring her concerns about Robbie Sandberg’s situation here to Medlab.

At least you didn’t drag Lou Corlin or his family into it. As far as anyone here will know, you came here entirely on your own initiative, based on your friendship with Robbie.

“Ms. Redmond.” Dr. Thuc kept her voice level, professional, even if her eyes could not quite hide her attitude about the situation. “I have looked over the information you gave Dr. Gorman. I agree that it is concerning, but there are very strict standards for what qualifies as cause to believe that a person is in immediate danger that justifies what would normally be a breach of privacy. After talking with the judge advocate general at Grissom City, we’ve agreed that there simply is not enough evidence in this one brief and admittedly disorganized message to conclude that we are dealing with a situation that involves actual risk of domestic violence, as opposed to teen angst about difficulties with adult authority.”

Brenda swallowed hard. No. I will not burst into tears. I will not sulk or pout. I will not behave like a thwarted child. I’m a grown woman and I have a reputation to uphold, as a mother, as an Air Force officer’s wife, as a DJ at Shepardsport Pirate Radio.

But she could feel her lower lip wobbling, the tears of frustration welling up in the corners of her eyes. Dammit, it was so unfair, that some bureaucratic hoop she couldn’t quite get through was making it impossible to find out whether Robbie was safe, or if the very act of trying to contact her could put her at risk of her parents’ irrational hatred of clones.

She took a deep breath. It required a major effort of will to force her voice into the professional tones she would use on the air while reporting a solar storm warning. “Then what evidence would you need to see?”

Was that the hint of a smile on Dr. Thuc’s lips, a shadow of regret? “You know I can’t tell you that, Ms. Redmond.”

Brenda had expected that answer. Given the situation, her question could very well be interpreted as, what do you need to see so I can fake it? never mind that she’d actually meant how can I present the evidence better?

However, Dr. Thuc wasn’t finished speaking. “However, it may be possible to arrange for contact to be made by a neutral individual, someone who is less likely to arouse the ire of her parents. If that enables us to ascertain her situation, we can determine how to proceed.”

“Thank you.” The words sounded so forced that Brenda felt she had to repeat them, to try to get some genuine emotion in them. “Thank you so much.”

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Document

The Russian Perspective

From: Vitali Grigorenko <vigrigorenko@imkosmos.ru>

To: Autumn Belfontaine <ambelfontaine@nasa.gov>

Subj: Academician Voronsky

You are correct in being concerned about the reliability of the reports of Academician Voronsky having sequenced the genome of the diablovirus. Neither of the publications you cite are in any way considered reliable sources within the Russian Empire.

However, inquiries to the life sciences department here at Gagarinsk have resulted in rumint of some preliminary reports on such a project. While it appears there is evidence of some success, it would be very easy for non-experts to grossly over-estimate or under-estimate the significance of these successes in practical applications against the current crisis. As a result, it would be best at this point in time to avoid any public report of these results.

That being said, I would strongly advise you to keep open channels of communication with your own settlement’s life sciences people. They may be able to help you to form a clearer understanding of the significance of information as it comes in, or make available to you materials from the journals and other resources in their specialties.

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Narrative

Routes Forward

As soon as Brenda Redmond received the text from Dr. Thuc, she could tell it had to be bad news. I need to talk to you, stat. was not a good sign.

Could she be in trouble, just for asking whether it was possible for anyone in Medlab to check on Robbie’s location? Although she hadn’t considered her inquiry unreasonable, old memories lingered from childhood. She’d caught two teachers in a row who were very close to retirement, and who had rather old-fashioned notions about the proper bounds of children’s curiosity. Both of them also considered public humiliation an excellent aid to memory.

But there was no time to dwell upon the past, not when she needed to focus on the present situation. Which meant finding the necessary fortitude to present herself at Medlab, mentally prepared for whatever response she received.

At least this message hadn’t come through in the middle of her air shift at Shepardsport Pirate Radio. However, receiving it while she was supposed to be helping teach a class was awkward in its own way. No, her senior teacher was not pleased that she should be summoned away, and clearly considered it to be something she’d brought down upon herself.

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Narrative

Difficult Situations

It’s a good thing we’re still in readiness mode right now, Dr. Barbie Thuc thought as she went through her documents. There’s no way I could deal with the administrative stuff if I were also having to deal with a flood of patients in Medlab’s limited facilities. Which makes it absolutely essential we make sure our quarantine procedures remain rock-solid.

At least Autumn Belfontaine’s question had been easy to deal with. Dr. Thuc had heard some rumint about the Russians making some headway on the genetic front — not surprising, given the huge emphasis the Soviet Union had placed on their secret genetic engineering programs during the Cold War. However, as of now she’d heard nothing about any success in that area.

Best to counsel caution, to suggest that nothing be said publicly until they had information from a source they could rely upon. While maintaining a hopeful attitude was important, raising false hopes could actually do far more harm to morale by ending in a crashing disappointment when they proved unfounded.

Thankfully, Autumn had been in complete agreement. Another person, especially someone with close friends or family back on Earth, might have been more eager to grasp at straws. But Autumn was also a professional news reporter, and had a strong sense of her responsibility to the facts.

On the other hand, Brenda Redmond’s request was not going to be so easy to deal with. Dr. Thuc had to admit her own sympathies in the matter. The e-mail from Brenda’s old high-school friend was alarming. Just reading it left Dr. Thuc with a sense of terror bordering on panic, and the fact that Brenda had received no further contact from Ms. Sandburg was concerning.

However, those facts did not constitute hard evidence that Ms. Sandburg was in danger, to the point that it became licit to seek privacy-covered information about her whereabouts. Not exactly news that Brenda was going to want to hear.

And Brenda had inherited her dad’s scrappy temperament. Just how likely would she be to try to argue her case when told no?

She is the mother of two young children, and the wife of an Air Force officer. If we were dealing with family, there’d be more cause for concern, but I don’t think she’d do anything rash for an old friend she hasn’t spoken with for years.

Still, it would be wise to break the news in person, where she could judge the younger woman’s reaction, rather than via phone or text. And talk to Steffi Roderick down at IT, just in case there were some possibilities she’d overlooked.

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Document

Recollections of a Difficult Time

The calling of a physician is to save lives and restore or preserve health. As such, our primary focus will be upon how we can give our patients the best outcome possible.

Unfortunately, there will also be times in which one cannot do all that one might wish to do. It may be the result of the hard limits of medical technology at any given time. It may be the limits of a lack of resources at that particular time, most often as the result of an emergency that leaves us having to prioritize the treatment of some patients over others. And it may be a matter of legal constraints, particularly when we are dealing with minors or other individuals who are not able to make their own medical decisions.

During what has come to be called the Great Outbreak or Great Sick, there were all too many situations in which legal issues constrained what we could do. This was particularly the case for those of us who were living and working in the various lunar settlements.

We had the obvious practical constraints of limited resources, since even the largest settlements — Grissom City, Coopersville, Gagarinsk, Edo Settlement, Shiloh — could not provide their medical centers with the full range of equipment that would be found in a dirtside Level I Trauma Center, or a specialist hospital for treating cancer or other serious diseases. There were some times where a patient who could not be transported back to Earth would have to be made comfortable while nature took its course.

With the disruptions of the diablovirus quarantines, these situations happened more often. Injuries that would’ve been survivable for someone at one of the larger settlements became a death sentence at smaller ones for the simple reason that those resources were not available where the patient was, and transporting the patient had become untenable.

Worse, we also had the situation of people with family members and friends dirtside who were in various difficult situations. Even when there were signed directives such as medical power of attorney, there was often little we could do to ensure that person’s wishes were carried out. It was even more difficult when we had reason to believe that a family member or friend on Earth was in danger, for instance, as a result of being forced into a risky housing arrangement by the closing of group accommodations, but the person making the inquiries about their safety did not have the necessary standing to qualify for release of information under privacy laws. Although it was difficult to tell them no in such emotionally charged circumstances, we had to prioritize the privacy of the individual in question.

—- Barbara Bhin Thi Thuc, MD, Col. USMC. Memories of a Frontier Physician. Carpenter Point, Tycho Crater: Kennedy University Press, 2044.