Chapter 5: The Flaw
The chief medic stood before Myers examining the data on a hand held console, stroking his chin as he did. His back was turned slightly towards the sergeant making it difficult for her to see his expression. From her position sitting on a treatment table, she craned her neck to try and catch a glimpse of the small screen. Her attempts were thwarted by the brilliant white glare of the infirmary lights on the glass. She relaxed back into the foam padding of the table and looked around the infirmary. Myers had been sitting there for a couple of hours while the medics had performed a number of tests, and she was becoming bored to say the least. The surroundings were hardly stimulating. Myers had inspected every inch of the bland room from her perch, and did not saver the prospect of beginning again. But she had little choice, as she was under orders not to leave the infirmary until the data from the tests had been fully assessed. Myers already had a good idea of what the conclusion would be. They would simply assume that the episodes were a result of an unusual flaw in her genetic make-up, otherwise known as flaw 213-b.
213-b, an alphanumeric sequence that had marked the sergeant since her first cloning. A condition that gave the subject a higher perception. It had given Myers some trouble before, headaches, blackouts and such, but only in unusual circumstances, and nothing of quite this magnitude. 213-b had its fair share of advantages too, but these meant little to Myers who had always feared that the flaw might one day threaten her mental well-being. But her pleas to the High command to have the flaw remedied had fallen on deaf ears. 'The minor discomfort of a single clone is of no concern', had been the only reply she had received. After that she had had little choice but to ride out any problems she encountered. Headaches and blackouts she could handle, but now her sanity seemed to be at stake, a situation she had hoped never to face.
Myers was brought back from her pondering by the hiss of the infirmary doors as they receded into the walls. Commander Clarke entered the room.
The metal doors parted before the commander. As Clarke entered the infirmary the smell of the air changed noticeably. The warm, processed atmosphere of the corridor gave way to the cool, sterilised air of the sick bay. Like most Commanders, she was not comfortable in this environment and usually spent as little time in it as possible. Ahead were the chief medic, poring over a hand held console, and Sergeant Myers, sitting patiently, waiting to be dismissed. They both noticed the Commander simultaneously.
"Commander." The medic called over to Clarke, "May I speak with you?" Clarke gave a nod of acknowledgement, and strode across the room.
"I've done a number of tests," The medic began on her arrival, "And I believe I have a reason for the sergeants strange episodes. As you Know, Sergeant Myers is afflicted with flaw 213-b." Clarke was aware of this. In fact, it was for the most part the reason that se kept Myers close. The Commander used her perception as a gauge for her own well honed instincts. " I believe that the unusual magnetic properties of the moon's crystalline surface has agitated the part of the brain affected by the flaw." Clarke took a glance at the Sergeant. As suspected, she seemed not to be surprised by the medic's conclusion. "I have already administered a suppressant to quell the effects," he continued, "But I would recommend that the Sergeant does not go on the mission to the moon's surface." This time there was a noticeable change on the sergeants face. She looked disappointed, even angered by the medic's suggestion. She glared at the medic for a couple of seconds, the turned her attention to the Commander.
"Commander!" she exclaimed, "You can't take off the mission! I... I'm the only metallurgist you have! You need me!" Clarke was taken aback by Myers outburst, but did her best to appear unmoved.
"Sergeant, you will do as the Medic suggests. Corporal Leopold has some metallurgy field training, he should be able to function adequately in your place." She stated, "Return to your quarters and remain there until told otherwise. Dismissed."
"But Commander, I..."
"Dismissed!" Clarke cut off Myers' protest. The disgruntled Myers cast a piercing glare at the medic, and then back at Clarke. She then submitted to superior numbers. Myers slid down from the table, and marched between her two adversaries towards the door. Clarke looked on as she stormed through the infirmary doors almost to fast for them to anticipate. It seemed very odd that she would be this adamant about going on what was essentially a routine mission. This was just one more item on an ever growing list of odd behaviour on the part of the sergeant since the ship had reached Purgatory. Clarke waited until the doors had closed behind Myers, then turned back to face the medic.
"Alright." Clarke said, catching him by surprise as he was returning to the data on his console, "You've given Sergeant Myers her explanation, now I want mine." Clarke could sense that the medic had not been totally forthcoming. She knew that there was something he had not wanted to discuss in front of the Sergeant, but she would not be kept in the dark. The medic turned to her, and sighed deeply before he spoke.
"You understand, this is something I did not want to discuss in the Sergeant's presence." He said grimly.
"Continue." Clarke replied. The medic lay the hand-held console on the treatment table, and folded his arms.
"When we first brought Sergeant Myers in," he began, "we noticed some... unusual symptoms. You are aware of the nature of her hallucination in the briefing room?" Clarke gave a single nod. She had given a full report on Myers' description of her delusion whilst awaiting the full medical report. "Well, on closer examination, we found that there was real tissue damage consistent with extreme low temperatures, and some severe respiratory trauma." Clarke's usually stone-cold expression now hinted at surprise. She fully understood now why the medic had kept this information from Myers. If it was enough to unsettle the commander, it might just have pushed the Sergeant over the edge.
"Your saying she was injured by her hallucination?" she enquired.
"To all intents and purposes, yes." the medic replied.
"But how is that possible?" Clarke asked.
"I couldn't say. The mind is an enigma to say the least, and in sergeant Myers case the presence of the flaw reduces our understanding of its workings still further. But the presence of tissue damage was not the strangest thing." Clarke frowned, sceptical of how this situation could become anymore bazaar. "The damage we found was identical to that which would be observed if the subject were exposed to the atmosphere of Purgatory." This was disturbing. Clarke looked over her shoulder at the door through which Myers had just departed. The commander had found herself looking on as her fears about the malevolent nature of this place were becoming a reality.
The chief medic stood before Myers examining the data on a hand held console, stroking his chin as he did. His back was turned slightly towards the sergeant making it difficult for her to see his expression. From her position sitting on a treatment table, she craned her neck to try and catch a glimpse of the small screen. Her attempts were thwarted by the brilliant white glare of the infirmary lights on the glass. She relaxed back into the foam padding of the table and looked around the infirmary. Myers had been sitting there for a couple of hours while the medics had performed a number of tests, and she was becoming bored to say the least. The surroundings were hardly stimulating. Myers had inspected every inch of the bland room from her perch, and did not saver the prospect of beginning again. But she had little choice, as she was under orders not to leave the infirmary until the data from the tests had been fully assessed. Myers already had a good idea of what the conclusion would be. They would simply assume that the episodes were a result of an unusual flaw in her genetic make-up, otherwise known as flaw 213-b.
213-b, an alphanumeric sequence that had marked the sergeant since her first cloning. A condition that gave the subject a higher perception. It had given Myers some trouble before, headaches, blackouts and such, but only in unusual circumstances, and nothing of quite this magnitude. 213-b had its fair share of advantages too, but these meant little to Myers who had always feared that the flaw might one day threaten her mental well-being. But her pleas to the High command to have the flaw remedied had fallen on deaf ears. 'The minor discomfort of a single clone is of no concern', had been the only reply she had received. After that she had had little choice but to ride out any problems she encountered. Headaches and blackouts she could handle, but now her sanity seemed to be at stake, a situation she had hoped never to face.
Myers was brought back from her pondering by the hiss of the infirmary doors as they receded into the walls. Commander Clarke entered the room.
The metal doors parted before the commander. As Clarke entered the infirmary the smell of the air changed noticeably. The warm, processed atmosphere of the corridor gave way to the cool, sterilised air of the sick bay. Like most Commanders, she was not comfortable in this environment and usually spent as little time in it as possible. Ahead were the chief medic, poring over a hand held console, and Sergeant Myers, sitting patiently, waiting to be dismissed. They both noticed the Commander simultaneously.
"Commander." The medic called over to Clarke, "May I speak with you?" Clarke gave a nod of acknowledgement, and strode across the room.
"I've done a number of tests," The medic began on her arrival, "And I believe I have a reason for the sergeants strange episodes. As you Know, Sergeant Myers is afflicted with flaw 213-b." Clarke was aware of this. In fact, it was for the most part the reason that se kept Myers close. The Commander used her perception as a gauge for her own well honed instincts. " I believe that the unusual magnetic properties of the moon's crystalline surface has agitated the part of the brain affected by the flaw." Clarke took a glance at the Sergeant. As suspected, she seemed not to be surprised by the medic's conclusion. "I have already administered a suppressant to quell the effects," he continued, "But I would recommend that the Sergeant does not go on the mission to the moon's surface." This time there was a noticeable change on the sergeants face. She looked disappointed, even angered by the medic's suggestion. She glared at the medic for a couple of seconds, the turned her attention to the Commander.
"Commander!" she exclaimed, "You can't take off the mission! I... I'm the only metallurgist you have! You need me!" Clarke was taken aback by Myers outburst, but did her best to appear unmoved.
"Sergeant, you will do as the Medic suggests. Corporal Leopold has some metallurgy field training, he should be able to function adequately in your place." She stated, "Return to your quarters and remain there until told otherwise. Dismissed."
"But Commander, I..."
"Dismissed!" Clarke cut off Myers' protest. The disgruntled Myers cast a piercing glare at the medic, and then back at Clarke. She then submitted to superior numbers. Myers slid down from the table, and marched between her two adversaries towards the door. Clarke looked on as she stormed through the infirmary doors almost to fast for them to anticipate. It seemed very odd that she would be this adamant about going on what was essentially a routine mission. This was just one more item on an ever growing list of odd behaviour on the part of the sergeant since the ship had reached Purgatory. Clarke waited until the doors had closed behind Myers, then turned back to face the medic.
"Alright." Clarke said, catching him by surprise as he was returning to the data on his console, "You've given Sergeant Myers her explanation, now I want mine." Clarke could sense that the medic had not been totally forthcoming. She knew that there was something he had not wanted to discuss in front of the Sergeant, but she would not be kept in the dark. The medic turned to her, and sighed deeply before he spoke.
"You understand, this is something I did not want to discuss in the Sergeant's presence." He said grimly.
"Continue." Clarke replied. The medic lay the hand-held console on the treatment table, and folded his arms.
"When we first brought Sergeant Myers in," he began, "we noticed some... unusual symptoms. You are aware of the nature of her hallucination in the briefing room?" Clarke gave a single nod. She had given a full report on Myers' description of her delusion whilst awaiting the full medical report. "Well, on closer examination, we found that there was real tissue damage consistent with extreme low temperatures, and some severe respiratory trauma." Clarke's usually stone-cold expression now hinted at surprise. She fully understood now why the medic had kept this information from Myers. If it was enough to unsettle the commander, it might just have pushed the Sergeant over the edge.
"Your saying she was injured by her hallucination?" she enquired.
"To all intents and purposes, yes." the medic replied.
"But how is that possible?" Clarke asked.
"I couldn't say. The mind is an enigma to say the least, and in sergeant Myers case the presence of the flaw reduces our understanding of its workings still further. But the presence of tissue damage was not the strangest thing." Clarke frowned, sceptical of how this situation could become anymore bazaar. "The damage we found was identical to that which would be observed if the subject were exposed to the atmosphere of Purgatory." This was disturbing. Clarke looked over her shoulder at the door through which Myers had just departed. The commander had found herself looking on as her fears about the malevolent nature of this place were becoming a reality.