Lieutenant Leonard Ward, M. D.
From his memoirs, "There and Back Again".
28-29 June, 2787
I was awakened from a deep sleep, after a long rotation in the medical bay, rather abruptly. Unfortunately, I was not very lucid at the time, and it took me a moment to register that there were two men standing over me who were trying to rouse me. Apparently, my continued slumber caused them some consternation, for one of them proceeded to fling me bodily out of bed. In fact, I believe he threw the whole bed with me in it, for when I came to myself I could see that it too was upside down and out of place.
I certainly was not used to being handled in this fashion, and came immediately to my feet to demand what they thought they were doing, treating me in this manner. I could see that my protestations caused them some degree of amusement, which was not at all the reaction I had expected or desired.
I recognized both of the men, obviously; our ship's complement was not all that large. De Saumserez and Danis were their names. The latter I had treated the week previous for a minor burn. Clearly he was an ungrateful sort at heart, because he was the one which had overturned my bed, and then grabbed me by the arm and marched me out into the passageway.
At this time, I must admit, I began to fear for my own safety. I had no inkling of events in other parts of the ship, and my trepidations were completely for myself at this point. Both of the men who were frog-marching me aft outmassed me by 40 or 50 kilos, myself being of a relatively slighter stature. My fears were generally ungrounded, as I arrived in the launch bay with nothing worse than a slight bruise on my left arm.
Ours was not the first such party to arrive, nor the last. Several officers and a few of the crew, apparently the bridge watch, since Captain Brighton and two others were secluded in one corner, and they were being watched by armed men. I was taken to a different group containing about a dozen people. All of them were silent and had a look of astonishment on their faces, to one degree or another.
As quietly as I could, I asked Fujinami, the exobotonist of our excursion and a close friend, what was transpiring. He responded that the executive officer, along with others, had conspired to steal Pathfinder.
A thousand questions flooded my mind, but I had no time to ask them. Teach, the executive officer, had entered the bay. He looked over at our group and then sent one of the crewmen to fetch me to him.
"Ward," he said, "this ship is now under my command. You no longer have to fear severe treatment from Brighton. It is my intention to put everyone off of this ship who will not follow me. There is a planet near here that is capable of supporting life, where they will have a good chance of surviving indefinitely. Will you join me, or will you take your chances with them?"
The bluntness of his proposition caught me off guard, and his steely gaze did not make it any easier to think just then. I was tempted to stay on the ship; it seemed the easier course of action. Life on a maiden planet was hard, and we scarcely had the numbers and diversity of skills needed to begin a new colony.
However, I realized, Teach was committing an act of piracy, even if it was an "inside job", as the media like to call it. The penalty for that crime, if caught, was death. Once the ship was reported missing, the Warner fleet would begin searching for it. It was almost certain that the stranded crew on the nearby planet would be rescued, and equally sure that the thieves would be caught, eventually. With that in mind, I thought my chances better with the party to be stranded, even if that hadn't been my natural inclination.
Perhaps ten seconds had passed while I considered, then I replied that I would take my chances with the others. He inhaled sharply, as if I had offered him some offense, then turned his back on me and addressed Crewman Chin.
"Take him back to the medical bay. Let him take the portable medkit, and any other small items Dr. Johnson says we can spare. Then let him gather some of his belongings from his quarters. No more than he can carry himself. And let him change clothes. I am not putting anyone off this ship in their pajamas."
Chin did not say a word to me all the way back to the med bay, simply following behind me as I made my way there. Meghan was not at her duty station, as I had expected her to be, since I had not passed her going aft on my way forward. After a moment's confusion, though, I saw her through the window in the operating room.
She glanced up as I approached, but went straight back to her work. I could see that the patient was Jill Burton, and that she had taken a blaster pulse to the right side of her torso. The breast and much of the skin on that side were gone, and it would be a miracle if she retained the use of that arm. As I watched, Meghan was struggling to bypass the melted and charred portions of the brachial artery and anterior humeral circumflex artery with a synthetic replacement. Without the replacements to restore blood flow, and quickly, the entire arm would be irrecoverable.
I vacillated as to what to do, but only for a moment. There was a patient who needed help, and that was my first and foremost responsibility, even if it meant numbering myself amongst the mutineers. Chin looked into the room for a second and went straight to the sink to vomit.
I punched the button to call into the sealed room. "Meghan, hit the unlock tab and let me come scrub in."
She didn't look up, didn't stop her feverish efforts to repair the mangled body on the table before her. "What's going on out there, Leon?" she asked instead.
I ran my fingers through my hair and tried to organize my thoughts into a coherent summary for her. "Commander Teach and some of the officers and crew are taking over the ship. I don't know how many he has with him, but he plans to put everyone else off the ship."
"I thought that's how it was," she responded wearily, all the while moving quickly and skillfully about her task. "You'd best not come in, Leon. I can handle Jill's injuries as well as both of us could, for the most part. If you scrub in, you'll be stuck on Pathfinder with the rest of the traitors."
Simon Chin had put himself back together enough to find a seat, but he had deliberately not come back over to the window. He was close enough to hear, though, and he flinched at the word 'traitor'. I didn't much care if his sensibilities were offended.
"Besides," she continued, head still down over her work, "we're responsible for the entire crew. Wherever the others wind up, they're also going to need a medical officer."
She was right about all of it, except for her not needing help with Burton's operation. I could see that the marine's vitals were stabilized, so she was going to live, but saving her arm was a matter of minutes, and four hands would speed the time to completion.
Dr. Johnson looked up then, for a moment, as she sensed my hesitation. "Go, Leon. I'll make it an order if I need to."
"You might have to," I said stubbornly. "You might not save her arm without help."
"Yes I will!" she said fiercely. She softened her tone immediately. "Now go, and stop distracting me. This is not the easiest thing I have ever done."
She was right again. This was not the easiest thing she had ever done, but she was showing as much surgical skill as I had ever witnessed. While I had stood there, she had restored the blood supply to the arm and was beginning to work on repairing the tissue damage. Rather than the speed necessary for the former, she now needed accuracy and patience. And no distractions.
"Goodbye, Meghan. I hope I see you again sometime."
"I hope so, too, Leon. Godspeed."
I turned then, and went to collect the medical kit I had been promised. I kept myself turned away from Chin, so that he wouldn't see the tears in my eyes.
Since Chin was not about to go ask Meghan for what could be spared, as he had been instructed, I decided that I would simply load up what I could carry until he tried to stop me. He never did. I walked out with more of our medical stores than I had thought I would. The medkit Teach had specifically allowed me contained a wide variety of instruments and supplies.
In addition to the medkit, I carried a considerable amount of medicines; antiradiation, antibiotic, pain, quickmend, etc. I was also foresighted enough to gather items to aid in assisting us in surviving on an unknown planet until help could arrive. Two large sealable containers were loaded with sheets and blankets, plus air splints, monotubing, and bandages. I finally decided that I had everything that might be useful within my ability to carry.
At that point, I nodded to Chin and left, the two containers strapped over my shoulders and my arms full of the other things. I never said anything to Meghan, not trusting my voice to remain steady if I made the attempt. I would see to it that Brighton was aware of the sacrifice she had made to do her duty.
My quarters were just around a bend from the med bay, which had been convenient in going on and off duty. Meghan and I shared the space therein, which had worked out amicably thus far in the voyage, as one of the two of us was always on duty, so we had all the privacy we needed; always crossing paths, but never really together except to relieve each other at our station.
In gathering up things there, I was tempted to take everything I owned, but realized immediately that that was not practical. I spent a few minutes gathering my personal effects and locking them all in my foot locker, and then tried to forget about them, trusting to fate to bring them back into my possession someday. Meghan would look after them for me, I was sure.
To my bundle, I added only two pairs of pants, my extra shoes, socks, briefs, and my two readers - one with all of my medical reference texts, and the other with recent medical journals and other light reading I had planned to catch up during the lengthy exploration. When I changed out of my sleepwear and into my uniform, I took four scrub shirts and put them all on. I collected my load and made to leave, then returned and kicked the bed back onto its legs and threw the blanket over my shoulder.
Chin had remained silent throughout, and I did not even spare him a glance as I left and headed back to the launch bay, though I could hear him following right behind me. Just before we reentered the launch bay, where I would have to rejoin the rest, Chin stopped me by finally addressing me.
"Ward…" I paused, and turned to look at him, but he continued to say nothing for a few seconds, as if he had used up his allotment of words. Or perhaps it was the glare I bestowed upon him that caused him to be unable to continue. Just as I was about to turn back to the hatch, he said, "Good luck, Ward."
My estimation of Simon Chin changed drastically then. Previously, I had thought of him as I would a bully forcing his will upon me which I had no power to overcome. He had been a hated enemy, and a symbol of the betrayal of trust to which I had been subjected. As I looked upward into his eyes, though, I saw that he was almost as trapped by circumstances as I was. He had chosen to support the opposite party in this situation, but he clearly was not happy about the consequences of his choice, or what he was forced to do because of it.
All hostility toward him drained out of me, and I said simply, "Thank you, Simon." I looked at him for a moment more, then went through the hatch.
When I entered the launch bay, my detained shipmates were not in the same corner they once were. The group had been moved next to the launch's access hatch, and they were in the process of climbing down into the access corridor.
Captain Brighton was now among them, and he seemed tensed and ready to spring into action, should there be the slightest opportunity. His eyes scanned from side to side, taking in all about him. The crewmen who were aiding Teach in his treachery kept a close eye on all of us, though, especially the captain, Lieutenant Johnson, the helm officer, and Major Chowdhury, the head security officer.
Several of the men also derided and shouted epithets at us, particularly the captain. For his part, Captain Brighton remain silent and aloof, though it was clear to all that he was exerting every effort to control his mounting rage.
The survey launch into which they were loading us had two seats in the forward area, intended for the pilot and copilot, and seats for ten others in the main area. It was into this area that we were sent, one after another, until nearly two dozen of us were stuffed inside. I had to quickly stow the supplies I had brought aboard to make room for more shipmates to be packed in.
Sheli Chowdhury approached me while I was about this task. Her hands were cuffed behind her back. "Have you seen Burton, Ward?"
"Yes, Major. She's going to pull through, and I think she will be able to keep the arm. Dr. Johnson was confident that she would."
She thanked me, and moved off to convey the news to Sgt. Aichele, the other member of her security team.
When all were aboard, Teach appeared at the airlock hatch. He repeated his earlier offer to all of us, asking if any would prefer to stay aboard Pathfinder rather than be exiled to Antoc-A3. I presumed at the time that he was referring to the habitable planet on which he planned to strand us, though I had not heard the name before. To my great surprise, three individuals arose and exited the craft, including Eric Aichele. He seemed ashamed of himself, and well he should, I thought. Fujinami told me later that six others of the crew had accepted Teach's generosity while they were held in the launch bay.
Before Teach could disappear and seal the hatch, Lt. Johnson asked about getting some food to take with us. Teach answered that the galley had not been stocked, but the emergency rations were still aboard, and that we would have to make do with those.
Chowdhury, perhaps emboldened by Johnson's request, asked about getting weapons to defend ourselves on the planet. How had she gotten out of those handcuffs, I wondered. Teach considered for a moment, then nodded and disappeared from my view. When he returned, he tossed four handguns into the launch. Chowdhury grabbed one immediately, but just as quickly discovered that the power cell had been removed. Teach laughed, then sealed the inner airlock hatch and, I learned later, left the cells in the lock before sealing the outer hatch.
No more than thirty seconds passed from the time Teach sealed the outer door before I felt the launch being pushed out of the bay. Captain Brighton stood behind the two pilot's seats and watched as the ship which had, until a short time ago, been his to command slowly receded from our view.
Mackey, who was in the copilot's seat, made contact with Pathfinder via vocom, but his entreaties produced no positive response; quite the opposite, in fact. Whoever was manning the vocom equipment, and I did not recognize the voice, seemed to be happy to threaten, yell, upbraid, and deride us in response to Mackey's pleas. Long, Johnson, and Smith all became very angry and yelled right back. Ultimately, the entreaties we sent had no effect on them, and Pathfinder, our home for the past nine months, powered itself away like a mother abandoning an unwanted child.
Captain Brighton remained motionless the entire time Pathfinder was still discernible. He stood behind the pilot's seats with his hands clasped behind him and stared at the diminishing shine of her engines. This was perhaps a total of ten minutes, though it seemed far longer. Within a minute, all conversation on the little launch had ceased. Everyone waited expectantly for the captain to direct us, to tell us what to do or what to expect. For his part, he seemed to be unaware of the heightened attention we were giving him, as if the firefly glow of Pathfinder's running lights had him mesmerized and oblivious to all else.
It was easy for me to understand the captain becoming melancholy over the loss of his ship. Clearly, being put out of the ship was a great shock to me, but it must have been many times worse for the captain. He not only found himself in the same dire straits as the rest of us, but he must surely be blaming himself, undeservedly of course, for it as well. It was no wonder that he should find himself emotionally cast adrift in exact parallel to our physical circumstances.
Much as I felt I should offer the captain some comfort at that time, I could not bring myself to do so. Firstly, I felt myself to be just as needful of comforting; I do not mind admitting that I was quite anxious, and more than a little frightened at our current state. Secondly, if I had tried to commiserate or bolster the captain's spirits, it would have diminished him in the eyes of the others. The morale of our group was a very fragile thing indeed just then, and the only thing, I felt, that could hold us together would be to keep confidence in the captain's ability to guide us and direct our efforts. Lastly, I did not have a relationship with the captain that would have allowed such intimacy. Though he and I had dined at the same table perhaps a hundred times, still there was an invisible barrier between him and everyone around him. The only ones I believe that were close enough to him to have attempted such would have been Teach, Chowdhury, and Johnson; of which one had just betrayed him.
I cannot, to this day, imagine how Captain Brighton must have felt. Just that day, he had accomplished a singularly notable feat; successfully guiding the first full-sized ship to make use of a jump gate powered only by the ship itself. Yet within twenty hours of that great achievement, he had lost his ship, the majority of his command, and one of his best friends, or so he had thought. To be brought to such abysmal depths after such soaring heights would be enough to crush a lesser man's spirits.
It was not a dejected or discouraged man which turned away from the viewport, however. As he turned, his eyes displayed the fire of anger and determination for all to see.
"Ms. Johnson," he said crisply.
"Yes, sir?"
"They haven't taken to a new heading yet, and I don't expect they will. Just in case, though, set up a scan to follow Pathfinder for as long as we can range her. Make sure all our data gets dumped to the log."
"Aye, sir."
"Mr. Le Vesconte?" The captain addressed himself now to the quartermaster.
"Yes, sir."
"I need an accurate inventory of everything aboard this launch, especially food and fuel. Have the ensigns assist you."
"Aye-aye, sir."
"Ms. Williams," he said, turning next to the attractive young helmswoman, barely older than the ensigns herself. "As your captain, I would appreciate it if you could see your way clear to set course for Antoc-A3, bearing 267.11, same plane, from our current location. We have a lot of v to counter, so we will need to pile on the acceleration for several hours."
"Aye-aye, Captain. Course laid in," she replied with the undercurrent of some private joke.
"Mr. Long, I want you to take O'Neill and Alcaraz and see what access we have to the internal power lines from within the cabin. I already know what lines are accessible from various panels, but I need to know what else we can make accessible given the resources we have available to us."
"Aye, sir. I'll get right on it."
The Captain then looked around the cabin at the remnants of his staff and crew. "The rest of you are going to need to be accommodating to those with assignments. I know we are crowded in here, but do your best to stay out of their way."
"Dr. Ward." I started at being addressed, as I thought he had concluded handing out duties to be performed.
"Yes, sir?"
"I see that you were able to bring a fair amount of supplies with you. Could you itemize them for Mr. Le Vesconte? I'm sure that will help him complete his assignment."
"Certainly, Captain," I replied.
I moved to obey, and Le Vesconte directed me to provide the information to Ensign Roberts, who was collating all the information the other two ensigns and Drew himself read off to her. It took me no more than a few minutes to provide Jherri the requested information. I had long ago committed to memory the items in the medkit, and the other things I had collected were still fresh in my mind. Since I was not required to physically go through the items in question in order to list them, I completed my portion without interruption while the others waited for their turns to add what they had found in various compartments and bins.
I returned then to my seat, which was not actually a seat, as those available were already occupied before I was put aboard, but was a section of the floor that I considered "mine" by the expedient of having sat there prior to getting up. My assignment having been completed, I took a look around the cabin and realized that the feeling of anxiety and gloom which had hung over our party had dispelled to a large degree, to be replaced with energy and determination.
The reason for this change was not hard to understand. Previously, all of us had felt cast adrift, no pun intended, by the events of that day. All of our regular duties and routines were taken from us, and replaced with unknown and unknowable dangers and difficulties. When Captain Brighton began directing us it acted as an emotional anchor. We could again feel that someone had control of the situation. By trusting in the captain, we could convince ourselves that he would take care of us and see us safely through whatever came. Perhaps, logically, that does not make a lot of sense; but emotionally it did not need to make any sense at all. The results were what mattered.
Drew Le Vesconte did not take long to make his report to the captain. They were near the front of the cabin while I was at the rear, so I did not hear everything the report contained. Captain Brighton listened attentively to the complete list. At one point he asked, "That's all? You're sure?", which I do not believe he meant to say loud enough for all to hear, but otherwise he remained silent. When Le Vesconte concluded, the captain said something to him which I did not hear, then dismissed him.
He turned then to Ms. Williams, and gave her some order that was below my hearing.
Drew's "seat", or perhaps "spot" would be more accurate, was next to mine. As he seated himself, I asked him what had caused the captain such consternation. He responded that it was not, as he expected, the food supply which had caused his response, but the amount of battery power.
"Look," he said to me, "the launch has an emergency supply of arbars, (by which he meant the ration bars that would provide everything needed for one meal of a 2000 Kcalorie/day diet) enough for four weeks. But the supply is calculated on an 8-man crew, which is all a survey shuttle this size is supposed to carry. It won't last the 19 of us near that long."
"And the batteries?" I prompted.
"Well, if the emergency rations are just as they ought to be, the batteries are not. It's clear they intended us to go to the nearest planet and nowhere else, because there's not power to go any farther than that. It looks like they pulled most of the battery packs out of their connections before they even loaded us onboard. Once we get to A3, I doubt we'll have any way to get back off of it on our own."
At the time, I did not know why this information should distress the captain, but I quickly put it out of my mind. I, like Le Vesconte, was more concerned with our ability to feed ourselves until help arrived. I knew nothing whatsoever about our destined exile planet, save the name only, with which I had become acquainted a scant half hour previous. Teach had said that those stranded would have "a good chance of surviving indefinitely", but I was less than inclined to accept his opinion on anything just then. I would likely have disputed that water was wet, had he made the claim.
I stewed about the problem for some time, then realized that there really was nothing I could do about it until we reached our destination and saw what was available for food. This, of course, lead me to the further realization that there was precious little I could do about it one way or another even then; either there would be food available in some form, or there would not. I would just have to trust the captain to deal with whatever problems were to arise.
I just as quickly ignored my own sage advice and went back to worrying about the food situation.
I next went through the calculations in my head which indicated that we had less than 12 days' rations for all of us on which to survive. I was about to go forward to ask the captain if he knew anything about the planet to which we were headed, and if we would be able to find anything edible there. When I looked up at him, though, I decided to stay in my place. Captain Brighton was deep in thought; he always tapped his jaw with one finger that way when he was trying to analyze something. Every now and then he would pull out his notepad and search for some datum, then return to his previous percussive rhythm.
After perhaps a half hour of this, the captain stood from the seat he was in and walked to the front of the main cabin, turning to face everyone except Williams and Johnson in the two pilot's positions. Instantly, the muffled conversations going on about the ship ceased and all eyes turned to Captain Brighton.
It seemed that he was about to ask everyone for their attention when he saw that he already had it, and he paused for a moment before continuing. After running his fingers through his red hair, he started again.
"I am sure that all of you are aware of our general situation. Teach expected to leave us no options but to go to Antoc-A3 by leaving us in proximity to that planet, and restricting the amount of food and battery power available to us. I do not mean to do as Teach expects, now or ever again. To that end, I am rationing our food and our use of the batteries, effective immediately. I have already instructed Warrant Williams to replot our course toward the planet, taking more time, but using less power. I have not discussed it yet with Lieutenant Johnson, but it is in my mind that we can land on the planet without using our gravitic engines at all, and thus conserve even more power.
"I do not have a complete plan yet, but Ms. Johnson and I will discuss the particulars and make you aware of them when it is finalized. In the meantime, we must take every opportunity to conserve four things: food, water, fuel, and power. Water is not normally a problem, because the launch is equipped to recycle it with only minimal loss. However, the recyclers use power from the batteries, and the batteries cannot be recharged with the means currently available.
"What I am asking each of you to do is to submit yourselves to my authority in rationing our resources, and that you will do so without complaint or dissent."
He again paused while the import of his words sank into our minds and souls. Clearly, he already had the authority to issue whatever orders he chose. In fact, given what I had previously heard others saying about him, that is precisely what I would have expected him to do. Perhaps the betrayal, both personal and professional, that he had suffered caused him to be reticent in exercising his authority. Whatever the reason, I think that the very fact that he asked all of us to follow him, to trust him, unified our group to a single purpose as a dictatorial commandment could not have.
There seemed to be no dissent among us, but that was not sufficient for the tall captain. He stood before us and called each of us by name, starting with Ms. Chowdhury and proceeding from most senior to most junior. He asked each of us if we would submit to his authority, and in each case the response was a quick and ready, "yes, sir!" Ensign Hayes even stood and saluted when he was called on, and everyone thereafter did as well.
"Thank you all for the confidence you have placed in me," he said then. "If you will follow my instructions, if you will bear up under the struggles we will certainly face, I promise you that I will do everything in my power to see you all safely home again." His eyes burned and he held a clenched fist before him as he continued. "And I will find Ed Teach and the rest of those traitors and I will see justice done upon them, if I have to move the universe itself to see it done!"
I can attest, without the slightest fear of equivocation, that no one among us doubted the captain's word. I heard Derrick Mackey, the ship's purser, say "Amen", as if to add both his agreement and prayer to Captain Brighton's oath with a single word.
That discussion ended, Brighton took over Williams' seat and sent her back to the main cabin. I could see that Johnson and the captain were discussing what he had in mind. Captain Brighton was doing most of the talking, though they were speaking softly enough I don't believe that anyone could overhear them; I certainly couldn't from my spot against the aft bulkhead. I did see the lieutenant give him one or two looks of disbelief, however.
The journey to Antoc-A3, from the time our launch left the Pathfinder to the time we could see the planet unaided, took over 28 hours. Apart from dividing three ration bars 19 ways for three meals, Brighton and Johnson were deep in discussions the entire time.
Orbit was achieved by means of the reaction mass thrusters, without engaging the gravitic engines. Brighton began immediately to scan the planet for a suitable location to land. He seemed to be having some difficulty in getting readings, and I wondered if he was trying to keep from using battery power with the scanners also. I must have said something aloud without intending to, for Clémence Queneau, the survey cartographer, explained that the sensor package on the launch was very powerful and accurate, but only for the things for which it was intended to be used. It was designed to be extremely sensitive to fluctuations in gravity fields, and detecting mass in the vast emptiness that comprised almost the entirety of space. Being able to "see" through the interference of atmosphere to get a clear picture of the ground was not one of its primary tasks, and so the system's designers had given it a low priority. With the result being a delay to us to make sure we could see where we were going to land.
After the breakfast "meal" was distributed, around 0830, Captain Brighton ordered us all to get some rest. He and Johnson would spend the next few hours finding our landing site and calculating our landing course. I pulled out the blankets and sheets that I had packed and distributed them. There were not enough to go around, so I settled down without one. I didn't seem cold in the least, even though the ambient air was not being heated in order to conserve power, and I had to chuckle to myself.
With all the anxiety and tension I had been through since our enforced exile, it was the first time I had noticed that I was still wearing four shirts.
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