Physician's Log 04:00 11/01/2413 Dr. Arpita Chandra, chief physician
Serious electrical fluctuations causing disruptions to several major systems— at least we weren't pulled from stasis because of some stupid programming glitch this time. Subramani has no idea what caused these fluctuations yet or if we still have to worry about them returning. Perfect.
Initial scans of the stasis unit indicate that no one else has been resurrected prematurely, and no individuals have been recorded as deceased. The fluctuations did, however, effect several of the stasis units, so I'm going to have to go down there and run diagnostics to make sure stasis was not disrupted and if it was to administer the necessary doses of phlebotonom. 1,000 diagnostics, to be precise. It's going to take 48 hours at least to get done properly. And with only three engineers to spare, we're all going to be working non stop to get everything fixed. Note: get extra stim packs from storage as well as intravenous saline. We could see a few crew members collapse from exhaustion before this is all through.
***Chandra swore colorfully and in three languages before stooping down to pick the data pad off of the stasis deck. The sound echoed through an unlit stasis unit roughly one quarter the size of a football stadium. She hadn't been able to feel her fingers for the past five minutes. These stupid new ultra thin micro fiber gloves were supposed to keep her hands warm and dry while feeling no different than one's own natural skin. The bit about feeling like you weren't wearing gloves was dead on the money. The insulated part, not so much.
Those bloody stupid echoes whispering all over the place— they made the place sound like a haunted house. Doctor Chandra looked around. Only the immediate area was illuminated, and the individual stasis pods cast long shadows across the cheap gray metal floors. It was the same sort of material that covered the recreated ancient subway vents back in Chicago, the sort Arpita's poodle, Muffin, refused to walk over. God, she loved that dog. She would much rather be snuggling up with the dog on her couch, watching vids and eating pork rinds than freezing her tits of in an isolated corner of a colony ship on the way to the Galatea system with only lousy combat rations and that nasty watermelon flavored electrolyte gel to eat.
The doctor snorted, muttering, “See the universe. Experience adventure. Hah. I should have listened to mother and gone into plastic surgery. Taken up mountain climbing for the adventure,” and plugged in the data pad into the data port. Damn. Not another one. Arpita's mission here in Green stasis unit was quickly turning all pear shaped. This was the eighth stasis pod she had worked on so far whose occupant's neurochemistry was seriously skewed. Androstadienone, adrenaline, corticotropin-releasing factor, and adrenocorticotropic hormone levels were all seriously elevated. And in every case, the anomalous readings began at 01:00 hours. Precisely when the first power fluctuation was recorded. If Arpita didn't know better, she would say the colonists were all having the mother of all nightmares. But that was impossible. The colonists were all in chemically induced comas-- a key part of the stasis process. In order to have a fear response like this, they would have had to leave the coma state and enter REM sleep. Thiopental levels were completely normal, however. None of the colonists were, therefore, even physically capable of REM sleep.
“What could have happened to scare you all so badly,” the doctor whispered, looking into the comatose face of the settler. Like all settlers, he was young, only twenty five, and in peak physical condition. A veritable cypher, Arpita thought. There are no answers here. Possible unforeseen drug interactions rotated vainly through the physician's mind. What in the world could have caused this, and, more important, could it happen again? Unsettling questions. Arpita finished administering corrective hormones and unplugged her data pad. “One down. Nine hundred and ninety two to go.”
***Tanazaki Shiori brushed a limp shock of black hair out of her eyes, crawled further down the maintenance tube connecting to the aft sensor array, and tried very hard not to think about how claustrophobic she was. Bitter irony that. At five feet and ninety five pounds, Shiori was always the one who got sent into such situations. It didn't help that she was also the most multi certified tech on this rotation. Breathing deeply and steadily, Shiori focused on what were for her soothing images: specs and diagrams.
The telemetry sensors on a Nebula class colony ship were notoriously tetchey— it didn't take much to take them off line a collision with a small piece of debris, for instance. A series of power fluctuations would definitely mess things up royally. But that was the price you paid for this level of accuracy.
Prying the maintenance tube door open, Tanazaki pulled herself into the cramped confines of the aft telemetry sensor array and looked at the sealed panels with a judicious eye. Given the nature of Wilson's earlier diagnostic, the technician ran down the odds and chose five different sub-processors that could have been responsible for the abnormal readings. Tanazaki honed in on the nearest potentially defective sub-processor and started inspecting the sensitive computer for glitches.
A faint hissing whisper flitted past the back of Tanazaki's head. Frowning, she checked the communications device to make sure it wasn't on, and she wasn't picking up a call from someone's pants pocket or something. No. That wasn't it. The device was off. Tanazaki dismissed the sound as the product of an over active imagination and continued the painstaking system diagnostic.
It was funny, though. The Ahura Mazda was light years away from home, and to just maybe have run into a real space anomaly. Shiori remembered as a child listening to her father tell stories from Greek mythology about gods, and dryads, and satyrs—how they would make nature dance to their whims, bring lightning from a clear sky, drown the earth and raise up a new generation from dragon's teeth. He was a physicist, Shiori's father, and whenever he finished a story, Shiori, frightened by the thought of drowning or some such, would ask him if something like that could happen now. And he would laugh a deep, warm laugh, pinch her on the nose, and reassure her.
“No, Shioriko. This cannot happen and never could. We live in a universe governed by rules and laws built right into the fabric.”
It was a comforting thought. And the main reason for Shoriko's decision to double major in physics and electrical engineering. She took comfort in a universe that could, essentially, be predicted. Where monsters and chaos were creatures of nightmares only.
And now this happens.
The unidentified sound started again. It really did sound like people whispering. The hairs on the back of Shiori's neck began prickling. Ghosts in the machine. Too creepy. It was probably just some sort of weird auditory hallucination caused by the stupid drugs. Dr. Chandra would know more. The emergency lights flickered as did the back lighting on the data pad, briefly leaving Shiori in total dark. Tanazaki let out a tiny squeak of a scream. When the lights came back up, Tanazaki blushed.
“Perfect. Nothing like squealing like a little girl in a haunted house to lift the self esteem. Pull yourself together. At least Wilson didn't see this.” She looked back down at the data pad, “No. No! Come on.”
Serious electrical fluctuations causing disruptions to several major systems— at least we weren't pulled from stasis because of some stupid programming glitch this time. Subramani has no idea what caused these fluctuations yet or if we still have to worry about them returning. Perfect.
Initial scans of the stasis unit indicate that no one else has been resurrected prematurely, and no individuals have been recorded as deceased. The fluctuations did, however, effect several of the stasis units, so I'm going to have to go down there and run diagnostics to make sure stasis was not disrupted and if it was to administer the necessary doses of phlebotonom. 1,000 diagnostics, to be precise. It's going to take 48 hours at least to get done properly. And with only three engineers to spare, we're all going to be working non stop to get everything fixed. Note: get extra stim packs from storage as well as intravenous saline. We could see a few crew members collapse from exhaustion before this is all through.
***Chandra swore colorfully and in three languages before stooping down to pick the data pad off of the stasis deck. The sound echoed through an unlit stasis unit roughly one quarter the size of a football stadium. She hadn't been able to feel her fingers for the past five minutes. These stupid new ultra thin micro fiber gloves were supposed to keep her hands warm and dry while feeling no different than one's own natural skin. The bit about feeling like you weren't wearing gloves was dead on the money. The insulated part, not so much.
Those bloody stupid echoes whispering all over the place— they made the place sound like a haunted house. Doctor Chandra looked around. Only the immediate area was illuminated, and the individual stasis pods cast long shadows across the cheap gray metal floors. It was the same sort of material that covered the recreated ancient subway vents back in Chicago, the sort Arpita's poodle, Muffin, refused to walk over. God, she loved that dog. She would much rather be snuggling up with the dog on her couch, watching vids and eating pork rinds than freezing her tits of in an isolated corner of a colony ship on the way to the Galatea system with only lousy combat rations and that nasty watermelon flavored electrolyte gel to eat.
The doctor snorted, muttering, “See the universe. Experience adventure. Hah. I should have listened to mother and gone into plastic surgery. Taken up mountain climbing for the adventure,” and plugged in the data pad into the data port. Damn. Not another one. Arpita's mission here in Green stasis unit was quickly turning all pear shaped. This was the eighth stasis pod she had worked on so far whose occupant's neurochemistry was seriously skewed. Androstadienone, adrenaline, corticotropin-releasing factor, and adrenocorticotropic hormone levels were all seriously elevated. And in every case, the anomalous readings began at 01:00 hours. Precisely when the first power fluctuation was recorded. If Arpita didn't know better, she would say the colonists were all having the mother of all nightmares. But that was impossible. The colonists were all in chemically induced comas-- a key part of the stasis process. In order to have a fear response like this, they would have had to leave the coma state and enter REM sleep. Thiopental levels were completely normal, however. None of the colonists were, therefore, even physically capable of REM sleep.
“What could have happened to scare you all so badly,” the doctor whispered, looking into the comatose face of the settler. Like all settlers, he was young, only twenty five, and in peak physical condition. A veritable cypher, Arpita thought. There are no answers here. Possible unforeseen drug interactions rotated vainly through the physician's mind. What in the world could have caused this, and, more important, could it happen again? Unsettling questions. Arpita finished administering corrective hormones and unplugged her data pad. “One down. Nine hundred and ninety two to go.”
***Tanazaki Shiori brushed a limp shock of black hair out of her eyes, crawled further down the maintenance tube connecting to the aft sensor array, and tried very hard not to think about how claustrophobic she was. Bitter irony that. At five feet and ninety five pounds, Shiori was always the one who got sent into such situations. It didn't help that she was also the most multi certified tech on this rotation. Breathing deeply and steadily, Shiori focused on what were for her soothing images: specs and diagrams.
The telemetry sensors on a Nebula class colony ship were notoriously tetchey— it didn't take much to take them off line a collision with a small piece of debris, for instance. A series of power fluctuations would definitely mess things up royally. But that was the price you paid for this level of accuracy.
Prying the maintenance tube door open, Tanazaki pulled herself into the cramped confines of the aft telemetry sensor array and looked at the sealed panels with a judicious eye. Given the nature of Wilson's earlier diagnostic, the technician ran down the odds and chose five different sub-processors that could have been responsible for the abnormal readings. Tanazaki honed in on the nearest potentially defective sub-processor and started inspecting the sensitive computer for glitches.
A faint hissing whisper flitted past the back of Tanazaki's head. Frowning, she checked the communications device to make sure it wasn't on, and she wasn't picking up a call from someone's pants pocket or something. No. That wasn't it. The device was off. Tanazaki dismissed the sound as the product of an over active imagination and continued the painstaking system diagnostic.
It was funny, though. The Ahura Mazda was light years away from home, and to just maybe have run into a real space anomaly. Shiori remembered as a child listening to her father tell stories from Greek mythology about gods, and dryads, and satyrs—how they would make nature dance to their whims, bring lightning from a clear sky, drown the earth and raise up a new generation from dragon's teeth. He was a physicist, Shiori's father, and whenever he finished a story, Shiori, frightened by the thought of drowning or some such, would ask him if something like that could happen now. And he would laugh a deep, warm laugh, pinch her on the nose, and reassure her.
“No, Shioriko. This cannot happen and never could. We live in a universe governed by rules and laws built right into the fabric.”
It was a comforting thought. And the main reason for Shoriko's decision to double major in physics and electrical engineering. She took comfort in a universe that could, essentially, be predicted. Where monsters and chaos were creatures of nightmares only.
And now this happens.
The unidentified sound started again. It really did sound like people whispering. The hairs on the back of Shiori's neck began prickling. Ghosts in the machine. Too creepy. It was probably just some sort of weird auditory hallucination caused by the stupid drugs. Dr. Chandra would know more. The emergency lights flickered as did the back lighting on the data pad, briefly leaving Shiori in total dark. Tanazaki let out a tiny squeak of a scream. When the lights came back up, Tanazaki blushed.
“Perfect. Nothing like squealing like a little girl in a haunted house to lift the self esteem. Pull yourself together. At least Wilson didn't see this.” She looked back down at the data pad, “No. No! Come on.”
No comments:
Post a Comment
So you want to put your two cents in? Bully for you.