Eidolon: Chapter 1

Physician's Log 02:34 11/01/2413 Dr. Arpita Chandra, chief physician

At 01:15 hours, the B maintenance crew was awoken from stasis-- six months before our next waking cycle was to begin. The normal revival protocols were significantly shortened; consequently, we are all experiencing severe symptoms of stasis sickness. I have administered the recommended doses of applied phlebootonom and have passed out electrolyte rations and stim packs which have quelled the headaches and severe nausea enough for us to get on with our work. God, I hate hard reboots. This had better not be another false alarm.

The five members of the B emergency maintenance crew sat on the bridge of the colony ship the Ahura Mazda beneath an open observation hatch , looking out on an undifferentiated field of stars. It was 03:00 hours, and all five men and women were suffering from varying degrees of stasis sickness. Puffs of breath clouded the air, and crew members huddled beneath silver emergency thermal blankets wearing their heaviest clothes. The temperature on the bridge was still adjusting to the premature reawakening of her crew.

All of the crew sat surrounding the central information console, which was shaped like king Arthur's round table, information displays open in front of each individual. According to the astronomical sensors, the Ahura Mazda had run into a space anomaly of some sort which caused power throughout the ship to fluctuate wildly for a period of five minutes.

Trying to push away the memory of falling out of a stasis pod and dry heaving on the ice cold deck of crew unit B, Subramani reviewed the data. It seemed like the wildest sort of gibberish to him, utterly improbable information. “My gut tells me that this is a programming glitch that we're dealing with and not a genuine space anomaly,” he grumbled. Then again, O'Bannion was the astrophysicist here and much better equipped to deciphers abstruse readings. Subramani looked up to measure the commander's facial expression. Carefully neutral but not dismissive. So it was possible that they were truly dealing with something new. One thousand years of inter stellar travel, and no one had ever come across anything truly exotic. Not that this meant much of anything. Physical limits meant that once a colony ship was sent out, it never returned, and communication was decades in traveling home.

“We can't eliminate the possibility that we have a real situation here off hand. I think that it would be wisest to proceed accordingly and assess any possible threats to the ship's integrity,” O'Bannion said.

Doctor Arpita looked around the bridge of the HMS Ahura Mazda trying to blink away the stasis halos and focus on the words of her commanding officer. It was, thus far, a loosing battle. Commander O'Bannon and Chief Engineer Subramani were hashing out a plan of action between the two of them using excessively loud alpha male tones. There was some divergence of opinion regarding the correct protocol to follow when a subspace anomaly was detected. It was a consolation that Wilson, Koeman, and Tanazaki were all looking as ill and distracted as Arpita felt. Tanazaki looked particularly ill; at ninety five pounds, the drugs necessary for a rapid transition to consciousness would have an exceptionally harsh effect. Chandra would have to force Tanazaki to down some more electrolytes before too long.

While listening to the men talk, it occurred to Arpita that if the experts in psychologically friendly ship design had ever experienced a hard stasis reboot in deep space after a three year sleep, they would have chosen a more muted, less “cheerful” color palate. Seriously, who liked white and shades of yellow? Hideous. And what kind of idiot chose a yellow color scheme for a vessel named the Ahura Mazda. Did her majesty's designers have no sense of aesthetics?

“Subramani, I feel that it would be best if I took one of your support staff and ran a full diagnostic on the stasis units,” Dr. Chandra, butting into another of the Engineer's long winded monologues.

“I can't authorize that, Arpita.” O'Bannon said, the middle aged commander said waiving his hand dismissively, “The stasis units all have individual backup generators. It's hard to imagine anything putting them off line long enough for any loss of life.”

“Agreed,” Subramani said, “although we could spare Dr. Chandra to run such a diagnostic.”

Arpita wanted to say, I'm sitting right here, you pompous toad but thought better of it. In twenty years Rohit Subramani had not changed one iota. He was every bit as arrogant and self involved as he was at thirty seven. As he was likely at the age of seventeen. But he did not receive a commission as chief engineer on a colonization mission for his winning personality.

“I think that's fair. But keep checking in with the rest of the team. You know how quickly someone can crash under these conditions. Also, work as quickly as possible. We could still use your help running general systems diagnostics”

“Of course,” Arpita nodded, her short, curly hair bobbing briefly, “I'll keep you posted on my progress.” Because I was planning on dawdling in 20 degree temperatures.”If that is all, I will be off. You know where to contact me if you have any questions.” Arpita gathered her diagnostic pad and walked stiffly to the elevator.

Wilson watched the older woman walk away, trying to avoid looking at the deadly void outside the porthole and said, “I could do a quick diagnostic on the astronomical array. Make sure we're not dealing with any obvious malfunction that could have caused these readings. It should take a half an hour at the outside.”

O'Bannion pinched the bridge of his nose and tried to ride a particularly nasty wave of nausea. This was his third hard reboot and the hardest thus far. He wondered if the effect could be as a result of the space anomaly. Probably not, but he couldn't shake the feeling that he was being watched through that observation porthole, watched by something cold and unfriendly. Paranoia, he reminded himself, is sometimes a side effect of applied phlebotonom. Not even an unusual one, at that.

“That sounds like a good idea, Idris. You have fifteen minutes. Go.” Idris swore under his breath and moved with as much haste as he could muster over to the astronomical consoles at the starboard of the command deck. A clatter of a maintenance panel hitting the metal deck disrupted the silence. “The rest of you, follow the protocols I'm sending to your work stations right now. We need haste, people. But don't sacrifice accuracy for speed. I'd like to get back into stasis and stop burning ship resources ASAP.”

Seth O'Bannion watched his crew disperse in a flurry of activity and tried not to see the absence that lingered in the corner of his visual field. Paranoia. Just paranoia.