CHAPTER 21 - ABSOLUTION

It was technically Kuw and Rachel's shift, but they had nothing to do while the ship was in a relatively safe area with nobody new to talk to and nothing new to survey. Thus, they relaxed in the mess hall, enjoying frozen sandwiches.

"You know, yours and mine look similar," Rachel said.

"Breeead is breeeead. It all looks the same when covering the ingredients."

"Honestly, I never thought about bread being the same everywhere there is grain, but I suppose at that scale there's little room for difference… wait, is that glitter?"

Kuw reached her hands forward, showing Rachel one side of the sandwich. The crispy, oily slice of brown-greenish bread indeed glimmered in the harsh light of the hall as if the surface of the bread was a nebula and the 'glitter' was luminant newborn stars. Or, less poetically, it looked like a supermodel's dress.

"Yea."

***

A few hours passed. Their shift was over, and they went to sleep, feeling very tired after the events on the station. So did Jamaad and Artur, alongside a large part of the crew. Thus, Elektra and Patch were assigned to oversee a largely empty ship as it rested in the dock. Elektra spent this uneventful shift sipping coffee in the command room– from a zero-gravity cup of course– and occasionally looking at the clock or giving into the temptation to play games on her datapad or re-read a few Bible verses. After all, Patch managed everything technically intricate, such as watching over the repairs outside, while Elektra simply had to manage the remaining awake crew and occasionally answer a non-objectively-quantifiable question from the repair workers. Occasionally, the clunk of a hammer or the zap of a welder conducting through the hull would break the silence.

Suddenly, there was a particularly loud clang outside. Elektra curiously checked the cameras on the outside of the ship. She saw a yect worker, torn free of his tether, with a large gash in his hardsuit's chest and an utterly crushed middle arm. The emergency seals on the six-limbed suit activated, poking out of the gaping canyon-esque chasms as white bubbles, soaked with dark blood. Elektra's large eyes widened as she immediately put down the holy book and pushed towards the comms console. She called up the foreman. His face was obscured by a snouted helmet with a golden reflective visor panel, the camera clearly held up by a small boom. Overall, his suit looked battered, but Elektra figured this was just wear and tear.

"Bring the wounded person to the airlock! I am a doctor and one of the best ones in Flamerider at that! I'll save them."

The foreman looked hesitant as he lowered his head…

Elektra thought about how the Corporation would bleed the poor worker dry of money if he was allowed to be treated at the station, no matter the cause of the accident. "NOW! TAKE THEM AND BRING THEM HERE! NOT TO THE STATION! HERE!" she bared her rows of tiny teeth as she shouted, not even giving him a second to respond.

As soon as Elektra began yelling, he jolted and began gesturing wildly in front of the camera. "Yike, yike, have some chill, madame! They already caught Bqektoq, see?"

He turned his head in such a way as to show the injured worker getting carried by a team of two yects… away from the ship.

"I. SAID. TOWARDS. THE. GODDAMN. SHIP. AIRLOCK," she brought up another window, this time calling up Patch, "If they don't turn the wounded around, seize the poor guy from their grip!"

The foreman sighed. He was clearly overworked and did not want to escalate this further, possibly get security involved, and definitely anger these scary-looking military people. "Fine!" He then barked an order, and the team turned around.

"Goodbye," Elektra said with a forced smile on her amphibian-like lips as she shut off the feed.

After pinging her medical doctor underlings to meet her at the entrance, she dashed into the medbay to grab some important diagnosis tools and then absolutely rushed towards the airlock.

Bqektoq was hauled in with great difficulty by two other yects. Aside from the doctors, several other crewmembers were gathering nearby in order to rubberneck. The latter group most prominently included Temo Sabauri, who not two weeks ago suffered a similar accident, if of lower intensity.

The hardsuit proved very easy to take apart: the helmet popped off like the head of a doll, and so did two of the arms, all three legs, and two halves of the torso. It did not even take a modicum of effort, and Elektra worried about the craftsmanship of this particular piece of equipment as she continued to disrobe the injured man. He was unevenly breathing under his snout-covering oxygen-mask, but was unresponsive.

The gash on Bqektoq's torso spouted oil-like blood at a rapid pace. Thinking quickly, Denisov whipped out a hemostatic spray and swept it at full blast across the wound's length, thus stopping the bleeding. One arm remained suited, the one that was crushed. The three medics very carefully pushed it off…

The sight of the gore-soaked, ruptured limb made Denisov gag. Even Elektra tried to not look too hard at it aside from helping her assistants, Denisov and Leitao, apply the hemostatic cream.

"This arm is a goner," Denisov commented.

"It is. Honestly, let's amputate it right here, or they'll charge him for the amputation instead of just the regrowth."

Cybernetic prosthetics were used mostly for their increased strength. For simply replacing a limb, genemodding could be applied: simply harvest DNA from the patient, then grow a new limb and reattach it. By the 23rd century, this was rather cheap… at least in the Terran Federation. Places that did not have the technological lead with regards to biotech were less lucky.

"What do you mean right here? Like, in the corridor?" Temo Sabauri said.

Elektra simply stared at him from under her brows. A stare as sharp as a diamond-crystal scalpel.

"Sorry," the engineer looked away.

She then checked Bqektoq's head for any internal injuries by swiping her tricorder over it. No major concussions or internal bleeding. Good.

The three very carefully secured the multifractured arm with a rod and some adhesive, thankfully easy enough to do in microgravity. They pushed towards the medbay. It was empty and eerily quiet, and they placed Bqektoq onto the operating table undisturbed. The yect man's form-fitting jumpsuit-bodyglove was removed, revealing the extent of damage on the rest of his body. Thankfully, it was limited to some bruises here and there, even if heavy ones.

"Do we even know what happened to him?" Denisov said.

"Maybe a welding tank ruptured," Elektra said, "I don't think they really do any quality assurance on them."

The doctors removed Bqektoq's oxygen mask, replacing it with an anesthetic mask that had a somewhat different shape. The computer attached to the side of the operating table already analyzed the yect's weight and other characteristics, and was ready to dispense a dose of universal anesthetic through a pipe. Strictly speaking, it was not 'universal', but this particular chemical mixture worked passably on most carbon-based oxygen-breathing species of the Oval. The man's breathing slowed and became less ragged as the induced sleep overrode his shock.

Elektra began hacking away at the yect's arm as the two others passed her various tools and medicines. Her scalpel, sharp to a nigh-monomolecular edge, severed cords of nerves and oddly-textured alien muscles. But she did not falter: studied interspecies surgery for a reason. Curiously, the knowledge base of a physician whose work involved operating on aliens was similar to that of a veterinarian in its broadness. Both had to work on many possible body plans, inhuman organs, and tackle various biological quirks. For example, she remembered that yects had extremely tense, sinewy, branching networks weaving through their limbs, and the tension had to be carefully released to avoid damage to the nervous system, as one of these branches snapping could result in damage to the organs in Bqektoq's torso.

It took several hours for the operation to finish. All in all, Elektra mused about this seeming like a very long day. At least modern anesthetics had a quick recovery time thanks to nanotech.

***

25 Apr 2231

If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

"Ugh…" Bqektoq said as he sat up. His eyes were darting around wildly, and he was clearly zoned out. "I… don't even remember… I was welding… made several mistakes… and the foreman yelled at me… grabbed the welder… hit it, and me with a wrench… shot at me with a rivet gun and missed… WHERE IS MY ARM!?"

The now two-armed alien simply stared at the stump extending out of his cylindrical chest, his body swaying.

"It was beyond saving, so we cut it off," Elektra said, "and really, that bastard was the one responsible?! Dear God."

"How can anyone… live with just two…" Bqektoq glanced around and fell silent.

Elektra smiled. "My heart aches to inform you that we cannot help you replace it with our current resources. We only have Terran and relmai-compatible prosthetics in stock."

The yect grimaced. "I'm going to go… into debt! And I don't think he will get any comeuppance…"

Elektra pulled out her datapad, showing the five-digit amount of umecs left in her account. "Not if I say so. Yes, these are my hard-earned savings from my practice. However… Proverbs 14:31" she smirked, "Ah I won't fill your mind with that right now."

Bqektoq's eyes widened. "Why?"

Elektra remembered. The yects had difficulty comprehending generosity. "Don't ask why. My job is to help people and by my Maker I will do it. How much money do you need?"

"At least ten thousand umecs… I do not exactly know," he mumbled.

"You have a pad, look that up in any searcher."

Bqektoq hopped off the table, falling flat on his muzzle. Drunken from the anesthetic, he reached into the arm-pocket of his bodyglove, and retrieved… a mess of crushed circuit-boards and glass shards.

"I… okay, we can arrange the transaction regardless. Hold on there," Elektra said. She genemodded all selfishness out of herself, after all.

"Thank… you… my savior…" Some kind of neurological interaction with the anesthetic, combined with the overall shock of the situation, made Bqektoq collapse.

***

The rest of the stay on the station was mostly uneventful, with the remaining two days spent mostly lounging around the ship. Kuw, Rachel, Elektra, and several lower-rank crewmembers played games together to pass the time– both on silicon and with cards and tokens. The former two also finally got a decent amount of time together.

27 Apr 2231

The last day brought closure to the struggles of the people they met on the station: Bqektoq bought a regrown arm with Elektra's money. Tyek got a raise for his unprecedented work in fixing the vents in the maintenance room.

And Mwiukwou and co met up with the six officers in the dock when the ship was about to depart, as agreed upon over Spark. The light pink relmai, the Chimera, the elderly human, and the android floated in front of the Pheidippides' assigned dock. The mostly-featureless android had smooth blue plating with a black screen for a face that showed a frequently-changing cyan emoticon. Mwiu herself looked very spaced out, frequently opening her mouth and looking around wide-eyed.

Nobody else was around– and at this time, according to Tyek, at this time the woman who was watching the cameras was having an eating break.

Jamaad scratched his short-haired head. "We accommodated Blup. But how are we going to accommodate four more people?" Meanwhile, he thought without even hinting at these thoughts. "A part of me wishes I hadn't accepted this… but what's done is done. Shit."

Elektra looked upwards. "We have four cots in the medbay. Yes, that would occupy all our cots… but I don't see any other option except for putting blankets in the supply room or whatever."

Artur snorted. "Isn't that thing a bona fide passenger bay by now?"

"They really spoiled me and my doctors," Elektra said, "But for an important mission such as this one needs the biggest medbay possible on such a small ship, I suppose."

The Asian man merely pulled out his datapad and glanced at the clock. His expression rapidly changed to a nervous one.

"Right," Jamaad said, "Everyone, get in."

Kuw held Mwiu's hand as she pointed all around while they floated through the ship's corridor. "Aaaaand this is the CELSS main power wire… we had to drag it this way, across the hall, because a last-minute paaartial refit made it not fit in its blueprint-ordained space. Thiiiis is the light that keeps flickering and even Patch can't figure out why. Meanwhile this is the ladder. Not so hard now but you just wait until the thrust starts up. I hooope you did lots of pull ups back home."

The ten individuals struggled to fit through the fairly narrow hallway. Despite this, even the passengers moved gracefully, avoiding obstructions like hanging wires and lower-rank crewmembers.

"I was a gym instructor back at Tayma. I can handle it," Mwiu giggled. She giggled for far longer than someone sober would have.

"I thought it was named Tama?" Jamaad raised an eyebrow.

"Well ya see, the way Liamuju is transliterated to Eeeenglish, some nuance of pronunciation is lost. Especially in early transliterations from the contact era. Last year the Language Commission for Maximum Happiness sent its new guidelines to the boring people at the Central Terran Xenolinguistics Institute," she said as she kept looking around in a daze, "Not even all relmai got the memo yet, but I liike being proper. Yes yes all proper."

"That's certainly a name," Rachel said as the large group went up the ladder.

Mwiu and Artur got stuck in the hatch, their digitigrade legs wriggling as they tried to writhe free.

"I thought it was obvious, but go in a fucking line! This ain't a cruise ship where you get an elevator or a turbolift or a water slide or whatever the fuck," the Canid said as he finally unjammed his bulky body from the opening, then pulled Mwiu free. "Ahem. You okay cutie?"

She pawed at her robe. "Some scuffles here and theeese, but it's all okay. All nice and swirly with shifting colors!"

Artur squinted. The robe was colorful but certainly did not change color. "Are you baked?"

"Oooof course!" Mwiu nodded wildly, letting her hoop-like earrings clink against each other.

"Then don't touch anything in the medbay please," Elektra said and glanced at her and Kuw. The latter simply kept smiling and whispering something into Mwiu's ear in a saccharine way while rubbing her back.

"Uhuh."

***

As the four were placed on the cots, Rachel glared at Kuw as they left the medbay, alone. "Are you going to remain faithful to me, love?"

Kuw's ears drooped. "I… we haven't talked about this, haaaave we? In our culture we don't have the same concept of faithfulness as you Terrans do. Love is freeee, and love is loooove. I did want to open up her robe someday…"

Rachel sighed. "If you really, really want to, I won't break up with you over Mwiu. Or any other woman. I'd prefer if you didn't, but we're not in the 19th century."

"What aboooout a man?" Kuw said. "I have two husbands back home. Though what we call marriage is not what you call marriage. Eh... would take a while to explain, wiiiill do that later."

"Them too. But I thought you were gay like me?"

"Well I prefer girls, but anyoooone can be cute!" Kuw stuck her tongue out and wagged her tail.

Rachel chuckled. "But nobody's as cute as you! Bet we can find some alone time today, during the transit out? Just as we did yesterday?"

"Suuure!"

***

Just as eight hours passed on approach, seven hours would pass on exit, thanks to the repairs done to the radiators allowing a higher thrust and thus a greater acceleration.

"Maybe we should have asked them to attach more rads?" Rachel naively asked Patch, looking away from the tranquil sensor monitor.

"This course of action would have been ineffective. Our radiator throughput is limited by the pump unit. Replacing the pump unit on this class of ship is an infamously arduous task. Activating human idiom module: a pain in the ass," the robot said. "We would have been stuck at the station for another week and likely have emptied our bank account."

"Right. You know, speaking of money. I'm not a materialistic person, as you all know. But… what is our reward going to be? The admiral, Wouw whatever, did not tell us anything," she paused and chuckled. "Maybe this place infected me."

Jamaad looked at her intently. "You know this could save billions from serfdom under the Empire, right? Aside from everyone here at least getting well on track for a promotion, if not being promoted outright, isn't it enough of a reward by itself to have the authoritarian regime not be replaced by a totalitarian one?"

Rachel sighed. "I suppose it's the lesser evil. And a necessary one. Don't the ilsh have a caste system like the dal-ghar?"

"Yes but unlike the dal-ghar they don't intend to impose it on everyone. And it's far less oppressive. What is better, if twelve billion people suffer a bit, or twelve billion people suffer far more and who knows how many more billions also undergo that same suffering?"

"Right… but what if it doesn't work?" Rachel said.

"What doesn't work?" Jamaad raised an eyebrow.

"The superweapon. The one you have in the chip she gave you."

"I… don't know the answer to that question," Jamaad turned away… as if fearing the sensors officer's expertise in detection and intuition, "the information is classified even from me. The Admiral didn't tell me anything she didn't tell you."

"Sir, can you please tell the truth? We knew each other for months and spent more than two weeks together."

"What makes you… think I am lying?" Jamaad said, breathing heavily.

"Your mannerisms. The way you don't look me in the face. A captain should be honest to those under him."

Jamaad grunted. "I suppose you can wipe the logs after I say this, so there's no harm in telling you."

Everyone in the CIC– all five other officers, sat up from their seats and turned to look at the captain. Rachel felt an odd mixture of shame and glee for essentially prying a classified secret from her superior. This could have been a court martial, if not for her knowing the password to the ship's auto-logger.