The Girl in the Tank: Galactic Consortium, Season 1

Episode Two: A Shaky Start - Chapter 4

Dan paused in front of the door. His inability to decipher the script was disorienting. He went through the directions in his mind, sure this was the place. He would have to try to get his hands on one of those holo-slates. About a fourth of the Cambridge crew had been given ones, but then they had ran out. The slates, it appeared, were simply issued free to citizens, but the Consortium hadn't planned on meeting up with a culture that didn't already possess their level of technology, nor had the Corelean thought it would be taking on a second crew as large as it's own.

The door slid open and Dan saw healers moving around an open bay. He stood aside for the woman coming out, one of his crew though he couldn't place her name.

Inside one of the healers, a middle aged man in a thick white sweater and white slacks, gestured him over. "May I treat?" he asked.

"Yes," Dan replied. "I was at breakfast." His stomach rolled at the mention. It had tasted delicious but it wasn't sitting well. "Then my back started itching and... it was wet."

He had reached around to scratch and his hand came away damp. Jensen had told him that he had some nasty looking boils erupting all over. Kleppie had nearly lost what little breakfast he had eaten at the sight of them and told Dan he'd better see the healer right away.

The healer merely made a noncommittal hum at the sight of his back. "Some radiation burns. Happens like that, until your seviert scores are lower you are literally roasting yourself from the inside out. I can apply some cream for now, but really we need to get you under blue lights for awhile."

"How soon?" Dan asked. "They announced a debriefing for our crew in twenty minutes."

"It should be today. You can go to this meeting, I should think. Later you should come back. Before you go under the lights, I should fix some of the DNA damage, probably in a tank." He slapped a piece of black paper covered in soothing gel over Dan's back. "This is just temporary, mind."

The holding area next to Dan caught his attention. A sailor named Whitman was being treated for a rash similar to the one Dan sported, on his hands and arms. "I was curious, how does the artificial gravity work?" The tone of his voice struck Dan as too innocent to be truly innocent.

"Hmm," the woman healing him said and for awhile she was silent. Then she shrugged, "when it doesn't work, you call maintenance."

The man healing Dan snorted. To Dan he said, "you're finished. Let me get you a different shirt, this one is nasty."

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With the exception of the critically ill, the entire crew was slowly filtering into the forward bay. It was the only space onboard that was large enough for the entire crew to meet. A few of men were accompanied by healers, and they were allowed to sit while the others stood at attention.

Lannister made a mental note to himself to find a new way to communicate to the crew. There simply wasn't enough space for everyone to get together in person like this.

As he rose from his stool the crew snapped to attention. He returned their salute and then ordered at ease. "I think you all know what's going on, so I won't go over what happened yesterday. As of right now we are all still too radioactive to leave quarantine. Captain Dowlings has spoken with her command staff in the Consortium. They are a spacefaring culture and treating radiation is something they know how to do. They will keep us here while they treat us."

There was a groan from one of the men in the back row.

"The healers here assure us that we can and will all be treated and released. They estimate it will take six weeks or so for the radiation to drop to a safe background level." Actual treatment estimates varied for each crew member, of course. For some, like Cheyenne, they could only shrug and assure Lannister they would continue to treat her as long as need be.

"The most important thing for right now is to remember that we are still sailors and we are still in the United States Navy. Over the next few days I am going to be working out the details of what our stay on this ship is going to look like, but I want every crew member to remember their discipline. Understood?"

There was a hail of "yes, sir," from the men and women in front of him.

"Good," he said. "Until further notice, I want you to treat the orders the healers give you as though they came from me. They will continue to serve meals in the upper mid hall lounges on each side of the ship. I trust everyone managed to find breakfast?" There were nods all around. "Good. The quartermaster tells me he will have staff available in the lounge as well, with snacks, drinks or able to get you whatever essentials you need, clean clothes, etc. When not eating or in treatment you have the free run of the two side decks, and the lounges therein. The rest of the ship is off limits unless you have a specific order to go there, understood?"

Again the chorus of "yes, sir."

"Then, for now, dismissed," he said. He had planned to talk longer but looking out over his crew he could see that many were too sick to stand for long. He remember enough of his radiation training to understand, this, not the initial blast, was likely the worst time period. The damage from yesterday was starting to make itself felt and the radiation they had absorbed was making its way out.

As the crew broke up he knew many were heading straight to the healing bays or back to their bunks. The rest of his debriefing could wait. He was forming a plan in his mind to keep them occupied while they were here, to prevent any trouble from occurring. That could wait. For now, sickness would keep them preoccupied enough.

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"You don't look so good, Runningbear," Fox said as they shuffled out of the debriefing together.

Runningbear wiped the sweat from his brow. "It's hot in here, isn't it?" he asked.

"Maybe its the radiation," someone suggested. "You should go to the healers."

"I did," he growled. "I told them my back was killing me. They say I'm fine. Fuckers."

Fox's eyes narrowed. His own stump barely bothered him, less than a day after losing the arm. Something didn't jibe. "We should talk..." Fox began, then he caught sight of Davies coming down the hall and forgot about his old friend.

"Hey, Davies, you okay?" Fox called.

"Never felt better," Davies said.

"You sure didn't look good this morning," Fox said.

"So I heard. I woke up in one of their tanks, just floating there. They wouldn't let me out until they had finished, but I felt fine. Got out of the debriefing, too," he joked. "Watched it on the display. I think I am going to start having seizures before every debriefing. Soaking in tub beats standing at attention any day."

Clower and Jensen joined them. Davies had missed breakfast and the three decided to show him to one of the lounges to find him something to eat and then head back towards their quarters.