Nu Trilogy 1: The Esss Advance (4 page)

“Good morning, Captain Richardson. I’m Vice Admiral Albert Bunting, and I have taken charge of overseeing your recovery and determining your fitness for further duty in the Navy.”

“Good morning, sir,” Sted said in a listless tone. He had a hard time looking directly at the admiral as the guilt he was feeling made his eyes slide away from the presence of authority. He knew that failure must be written all over his face. Fitness for duty seemed impossible at this point.

The Vice Admiral filled the doorway. He appeared to be the type of sailor found in the bowels of a ship tearing apart and rebuilding some major piece of equipment that kept the Space Navy’s vessels functioning properly. He actually was that type of person, except he did not deal with the mechanical part of a ship but with the individuals who manned those ships.

“I am truly sorry for the loss of your two officers in this unfortunate accident,” Bunting said. “I want to assure you that the Navy is doing everything possible for their families here on Luna and back on Earth. I have already written personal notes expressing the Navy’s gratitude for their service and to let them know that you, as their captain, are still recovering from extensive injuries suffered in the same accident. That is one task I was able to do for you while you were in surgery and post-operative recovery.”

“Thank you, sir,” Sted replied, looking up at the imposing officer with a mixture of gratitude and trepidation. “Over the next couple of days, I will also write notes to their families to let them know how much I appreciated their service to the Navy and to me personally as their captain on this last deployment. They were wonderful people and close friends, and I think the families deserve to know that directly from me.”

The Vice Admiral smiled. “I am sure that would be very much appreciated. I’ll have the families’ names and addresses sent directly to your comm unit along with a copy of my notes to each of them. Is there anything else I can send you that would be helpful?”

Sted shook his head. “No, sir.”

The Vice Admiral nodded. “Very well then, are you up to discussing your post-recovery career?”

“Maybe tomorrow or later this week,” Sted replied. “My thoughts are scrambled right now, especially when I try to remember what happened in that airlock. I’m not sure I could retain very much at this point.”

“Not a problem, Captain. I’m certain it will take time and a great deal of counseling with Ms. Fry for you to deal with the losses you have suffered. I just ask that you give us that time and your every effort to make things right again. I am also asking you to have faith in the recovery plan I have established and the team I have assembled. With all of us working together, I believe we can piece your life back together in a very meaningful way.”

“I will try, sir,” was all Sted could manage.

“Excuse me, sir,” Emily said as she pushed past Bunting and entered Sted’s room. “We need to get the captain down to rehab where we can begin the process you’ve outlined in your program.”

As she spoke, Emily disconnected Sted from the many wires and tubes around his bed and reconnected him to several on the wheeled transport gurney she brought over from the side of the room. Sted wondered what type of therapy they would start while he still required external devices to recover his health.

“I will return at 1400 hours tomorrow to review some of your options, Captain,” Bunting said. “I have instructed Emily and the hospital staff to give you full access to your proposed recovery regimen. Part of your initial visit to rehab will be setting you up with your own portable tablet from which you can see all of your medical records, including surgical notes, vital statistics over time, your rehab plan as set up by me, and anything else necessary for you to understand your progress and your goals. I put the initial plan into place while you were coming out of surgery, but it will be your responsibility to modify the plan going forward based on the decisions you make regarding your immediate future. Until then, Captain, I wish your good luck and Godspeed!”

With that, the Admiral withdrew from the room. It was just as well, as Emily needed most of the available space in the room to move Sted from the bed to the gurney. In the lower lunar gravity, his weight would not be a problem. She could easily move him. The only thing that made this difficult was working around the various attachments between him and the equipment on the gurney.

“Captain Richardson, can you hold on to these three lines while I shift your weight? Hold them up high enough so that when I lift your torso and then set you down on the gurney, the lines don’t get caught under your backside. Then I can rearrange everything appropriately once you’re settled.”

“Certainly,” Sted replied. “How long do I have to have this IV drip going and the monitoring devices attached?”

“Your IV will probably be removed sometime tonight, but that depends on the doctor’s evaluation of your progress on getting your digestive track working normally. The monitoring lines will remain in place for at least a week.”

After reorganizing everything on the gurney so that Sted was comfortable, she swung the gurney around to point what was left of his legs toward the door. “Okay, let’s get you downstairs to the computer lab so Larry can get you set up properly.”

Sted knew things were moving rapidly, but somehow, he didn’t care. He knew he would make the effort to write to Lorraine and Jeremy’s families, because that was his responsibility. That was about the extent of his plans. After that he just wanted to curl up into a ball and escape the pain of their loss.

The print media was almost dead. Everyone relied on one or more forms of electronic media to catch up on the day’s news and events. That was the problem. If you controlled all forms of electronic media, you controlled the flow of information to almost everyone on the planet. This was particularly true in the North American Union (NAU) and especially in the larger cities like New York City, Chicago, Mexico City, and Los Angeles. The masses in those cities had to be kept in the dark about any bad news to prevent possible rioting and looting. Freedom of the press had been thrown out the window with the NAU in control of the vids and the Internet.

The only exceptions were the splashy tabloids found at all of the grocery stores’ checkout lanes and in most bodegas around the city. Very few people believed what they read in the tabloids, but it was too much fun to read and speculate about the rich and famous celebrities around the country and around the world.

The “Insider” knew that many important stories were suppressed in the electronic media, so he decided to go with Plan B. He would leak the information to someone in the tabloid print media. By the time it got out, it would be too hard to suppress the story.

Tendrils of the hot and muggy summer afternoon seemed to find their way past all the defenses of the small, ramshackle offices of the
New York Rag
. The building on Canal Street in Manhattan had definitely seen better days, and the central air was fighting a losing battle.

Richard Collins could barely afford the rent for the upper two floors above the ancient Burger King at street level. The top floor held what was left of the
Rag’s
assets, which consisted of little more than a few desks, overflowing file cabinets, four workstations, and ten-year-old communications equipment necessary to transmit each edition of the
Rag
to Splash Printing.

The fourth floor was not much better than the fifth. Richard’s apartment mirrored his life. Every piece of furniture had seen better days, and the dust collecting in the corners and under the bed whispered of sadness and decay.

If the circulation of the
Rag
did not pick up soon, the paper would go the way of Richard’s marriage. That would mean that his five employees would be out of a job, and several of his bloggers would lose their main source of income.

A change was needed, and Richard was keenly aware of this fact, but the direction of that change was a mystery to the only son of the founding editor of one of the few remaining tabloid newspapers on the island. Tomorrow morning’s edition was a wrap, but Richard knew the stories were tepid at best. What could he do to breathe some life into the
Rag
?

The incoming mail notification sounded from the iBlog server right next to his desk. The train whistle sound had been set up by his father to indicate the arrival of a story from a blogger of unknown origin. It was a sound that the walls of this office had not heard in years.

Richard woke up his workstation and logged onto the server, thinking this was either an omen of good things to come or the death knell of his paper.

The lead on the blog read, “Space Navy Scrambling.” The blogger identified him or herself as “The Insider,” which was intriguing. What followed was a comprehensive story of how the United Space Navy (USpN) was having a difficult time organizing a last-minute asteroid redirect mission (ARM) for a small asteroid heading toward a possible collision with Earth. It detailed a rare accident at Tranquility Base on the moon where a small meteorite had killed two officers and nearly killed the captain of the
USpN
Revere
as they were about to be briefed on the mission.

The writing was riveting, and the story would catch the attention of New Yorkers if the facts could be verified. At the end of the transmission were instructions for payment to the author if the story was published, along with the name and VidPhone addresses of the chiefs of information at Tranquility Base and at the Neil Armstrong Shipyard where the
Revere
was being refitted for immediate departure.

Richard clicked on the VidPhone address of Commander Roy Hatchman at the shipyard to verify that USpN
Revere
was actually docked and being refitted. If that part of the story panned out, he would contact Commander Phyllis Marsden at Tranquility to verify the details of the accident and the possible impact of the asteroid if the mission failed. If he were going to halt the printing of the morning edition, he would have to hurry. The print resubmission deadline at Splash Printing was only two hours away. 

“It is time to wake up, Captain Richardson,” Emily said. “Vice Admiral Bunting will be here in fifteen minutes, and I need that time to refresh your leg preservers.”

“Whatever,” Sted replied as the dream he was experiencing evaporated into nothingness. His pillow was soaked in sweat again, so he knew something important was happening in the dream, but he could not hold on to what it was.

“I think it might be helpful if you watch this process so that you can understand that the leg tissue above the cut line is in very good shape. The surgeon’s report indicates that your upper legs are in ideal shape for accepting the new prosthetics.”

As she talked, Emily pulled back the covers, exposing Sted’s stumps with some kind of device what looked very much like the cupule, or base, of an acorn covering the bottom of each one. As Sted watched, Emily slid a locking mechanism in a counterclockwise direction on his right leg preserver and then slid it off of the stump. She submerged the preserver into a tank of liquid on the cart beside the bed and then held a mirror below Sted’s leg to show him the bottom of the stump.

“As you can see, the leg preserver has left a clear film across the stump so that you do not bleed out in bed while it refreshes itself in the mineral bath. If you look closely, you can also see that all of your leg tissue under the film is healthy and functional.”

With that, Emily pulled the leg preserver out of the tank and then re-attached it to his right stump. “These leg preservers were designed to keep the tissue in perfect condition for the attachment of the prosthetic leg when it arrives. Every twenty-four hours, the leg preserver must be recharged. I don’t know all the details of what goes on in the recharge tank, but I know it uses blood cells from your legs to manufacture compatible cellular material to maintain a fresh and healthy cross-sectional surface on the stump.”

When Emily repeated the procedure on Sted’s left leg, she pulled the bedcovers back over his lower body and then fluffed the pillows behind his head and back so that he would be as comfortable as possible for his visit with the admiral.

“Let me replace this pillow and pillow cover. I’m afraid you soaked it again. Is there anything else you need before the admiral arrives?”

“If you could refill my water bottle, I should be fine,” Sted replied.

Just then, Vice Admiral Bunting appeared in the doorway and sent a questioning look to Emily that Sted did not catch.

“Captain Richardson went down to the lab yesterday for a productive session with Larry Phillips,” Emily said. “Larry tells me that the captain is up to speed on the recovery plan, that he understands how to review and update all of the information in the plan, and that they reviewed how the new prosthetic legs will be attached and how they will integrate with his body. Captain Richardson is already eating solid foods, and he has had a decent nap this morning. I have just refreshed his leg preservers and am filling his water bottle. Is there anything I can get for you before I take my leave?”

“I’m fine, Ms. Fry,” Bunting said as he pulled a chair over to the bed and sat down. “We have quite a bit to discuss, so if you will excuse us, we can get started.”

“Certainly, sir,” Emily said as she placed Sted’s refilled water bottle on the bed tray and then exited the room.

Bunting smiled at Sted. “Good afternoon, Captain Richardson. Are you comfortable and focused enough that we can get started?”

“I am comfortable and focused enough to contribute to the discussion, although I can’t say how long it will last.”

“Good. Good,” Bunting replied, sounding somewhat distracted. Then he perked up and appeared to regain his focus. “Let me give you just a brief introduction to what we will be talking about this afternoon. As I’m sure you are aware, you are not eligible to command one of our ships after rehab. You may not be aware that there are many other positions available to you once you are up and about. I have made it my job to evaluate your recovery process, to work with you on choosing your next assignment, and then to direct the training necessary for that assignment.

“You also may not know that you are eligible, as a former Navy ship captain, to pursue other careers outside of the Navy once you complete your rehabilitation. If you choose this avenue, I am at your disposal to ease the transition back into civilian life and to connect you with the appropriate people in the many space industries where your skills as a captain will be in great demand. This choice is entirely up to you.

“Today, I want to focus on positions within the Navy that the Admiralty would like you to consider. I have forwarded a complete list to your tablet as part of your recovery plan. If you will open that plan on your tablet under the ‘Goals’ tab, we can begin the review. . . . ”