Author's Note: This was written. well, a long time ago! Probably when I
was 16 or so like everything else. Therefore I make no claims at it being
great writing. But it took me so long to finish it (tho I no longer
remember how long) I figure I might as well post it here ;) If I finished
it shortly after the death of the gerbil it is dedicated in memory of (LOL)
then I was 14-15 when it was written, but I'm not sure if it was
contemporary or not.
I'd like to extend a special thanks to Nancy, Ellie and Margaret, and of course anybody else who I at one time or another asked for their opinion. To them I have this to say. "Well, whaddya know, I actually finished it!!" = )
I've written a little blurb, like what would be written on the back of a novel. Just to give you an idea of what you're in for, here it is:
They're alive, but their leader isn't. Or so it seems.
Devon Adair, founder of the Eden Project, mother of Ulysses Adair, and the one who was responsible for bringing all of the Eden Advance colonists to G889, is ill. Their only doctor is completely baffled.
But just as the group seems to be torn apart by arguing, something happens to bring them all together. But still, Devon's survival is in doubt, and if they can save her, what will be the cost?
That's all folks, on with the story . . .
Elizabeth
Look Into Your Heart 1/6 by Elizabeth Heckert
~In Memory of Alpha Omega Dani~ February 12th 1996-August 19th 1997 Beloved daughter & Pet (one of my gerbils)
--------------------------------------
22 light-years away from the planet the human species calls home, a nine-year-old boy sat, perched atop a crate, staring with the distant expression that only a troubled child could wear. It was Ulysses Adair, his chin resting on his hands as he focused his attention completely upon the object of his observation.
They'd been stopped there for two weeks, having not made a move since their leader, Devon Adair, Uly's mother, collapsed mysteriously. Just when the group had thought they were recovering from all their ills, the woman who had brought them all there had fallen. Devon had yet to recover. In fact, some had voiced serious doubts as to whether or not she would *ever* recover--whether they were all just wasting their time by staying put while their only doctor worked for a cure.
That was the discussion that evening, as the Eden Advance, as always, gathered about a welcoming campfire. Coffee was sipped in between exchanges of heated words--all had very strong feelings in this matter. Some were suggesting the group move on. Cut their losses and get to New Pacifica. They could come back for Devon later . . . she would want it that way.
But others, including Bess Martin, insisted they stay for as long as possible. Without Devon it wouldn't even be worth getting to New Pacifica. Very few of them knew enough about the colony to do much good without her guidance. However, the group was in a stalemate. Uly, being a child, couldn't actively take part in the discussion, and feared that if he did he would merely come across as some scared baby--which he wasn't.
Yale wasn't saying anything either. Though he tried not to show it for fear of upsetting Uly more, he was obviously deeply hurt by Devon's situation. Danziger, also, didn't seem too eager to talk, even though Devon had asked him to look after the group in her absence. Occasionally he would strike down some reasoning, one way or the other, but never really took a position.
"Julia could come up with the answer any second," Bess was saying, "you never know."
"*Exactly*," Walman interrupted, across the fire from her, "we *don't* know. That's just the thing. It could be any second, any day, any month, it could be *years* before she figures it out!"
Linda Magus nodded in agreement with Walman. "It's . . . " she sighed. "It's how Devon would want it."
Danziger snorted. "Don't be so sure of that." All heads turned to him, but he sipped his coffee nonchalantly, as if he had said nothing.
Uly shifted uncomfortably on the crate that he had been sitting on, casting his gaze away from the crashed science ship upon which it had been glued. His mother was in that ship, in one of the cold sleep crypts, as her fate was being decided outside. He settled down and listened to the adults continue to argue. Who knew if they'd ever come to a decision. Uly doubted they would. They'd just keep arguing about it until those who wanted to pick up and leave realized that they hadn't gotten anywhere and the other side was winning.
"Hey, Uly." Ulysses jumped when he felt a hand rest on his shoulder. He looked up to see the imposing figure of John Danziger standing over him. "C'mon buddy, it's getting late out, time for bed." The mechanic also had his sleepy daughter at his side, True almost nodding off right there where she stood.
He shook his head. "No, I wanna stay . . . I'm not tired . . ." Unfortunately, he failed to stifle the yawn that came as a result of the suggestion of sleep. All it took was one more look from Danziger to make him sigh and get up, loping towards the tent he now shared with John and True.
* * * * * *
"Yet another pointless discussion . . . " Alonzo Solace voiced his discontent to himself as he stepped down the ladder and into the hulk of the crashed spaceship. The main cockpit was empty, the lights on its consoles still lit after all this time. Alonzo passed quickly through the control room, heading for the cold sleep bay, where he knew he could find her.
Sure enough, Julia Heller was seated on a crate she had dragged down from the outside, bent over the medical diagnostic equipment, her lovely features creased into a frown. She looked up when she heard his opening remarks, twisting around on her seat and sighing.
"Get anywhere?" Alonzo asked as he joined her by the bank of computers built into the wall of the cryochamber. Julia had been searching for an answer to Devon's illness ever since Devon had been put into cold sleep, going over and over the information recorded in those few minutes by her diagnostic glove.
Julia didn't even answer him, because she knew he was sure of her reply. "Was the discussion that bad? What have they decided?"
"*Nothing*," Alonzo reported, crouching down beside her, for lack of a seat. "And I doubt anything will ever be decided."
She didn't bother questioning him any further. They'd been having "discussions" for the past two weeks about what to do, and they had never gotten anywhere. That's why Julia had decided not to waste her time up there when she could be in the cold sleep bay of the ship trying to figure out what was going on.
Once again, she became absorbed in her work, running through her catalog of illnesses, trying to find something, anything that came close to what had silenced Devon Adair. She didn't even want to consider the possibility of it being a completely unknown disease, though that was almost definitely what it was. What had Elizabeth Anson said? The planet was rejecting them? But on what evidence had she based this on? Was it, perhaps, just caused by some sort of delirium in the last few minutes of her life?
Alonzo looked on, over her shoulder, though he couldn't make head nor tail of what she was doing. "What have you got so far?"
The doctor sighed, slumping where she sat, and resting her elbows on the table set up before the computer with which she worked. Shaking her head, she told him, "It just doesn't make any sense."
"What doesn't make any sense?"
"This," Julia said, motioning to where Devon stood, frozen behind the clouded window of a cold sleep crypt. "Everything! None of it makes sense. And I keep getting cross-references to Bennett and Elizabeth's condition." She eyed the computer suspiciously, as if it was spouting false data.
The pilot moved a bit closer, looking over the readout. "Well, maybe that's something," he pointed out.
"But that's *what*?" She sighed, shaking her head, raking her fingers through her blond hair, which she had tied back in a ponytail. "I mean, that's impossible. Bennett and Elizabeth's condition was clearly the syndrome," she paused. Then closed her eyes. "The cold sleep syndrome, that is," she corrected herself. She was tired, making slips. "But it just doesn't make sense."
He shrugged. "Maybe it does."
She looked at him, and he grinned. "I know, I know, you're just trying to help."
"Maybe you need some rest."
"No, no," she waved him off. "I'm fine. I'm just . . . frustrated, that's all."
"Well whatever it is," he said, taking her hand and indicating that she was to stand up, which she did grudgingly, "You're not thinking clearly. I really think you ought to get some rest."
Looking into his sparkling eyes, Julia grimaced. He was right. She could use a bit of rest. "But my work--"
"Will be here tomorrow. This group's certainly not going anywhere. Now come on," he said, leading her towards the exit from the bay. "If you're not making progress, then our argument for staying is moot. C'mon, Doc, time to visit the sandman."
And she followed him, mumbling, "I doubt this'll help . . . "
* * * * * *
Julia tossed and turned most of the night, unable to rest. Every time she was on the verge of sleep, her mind would snap back into possible diagnoses. By the time she realized what she was doing, she was fully awake again, and had to clear her mind and try again. This cycle would have continued endlessly, until she finally decided she'd had enough.
Taking care not to disturb Alonzo, who slept soundly beside her on the narrow cot, she pulled on her jacket and tiptoed out of her tent, and across the campground. Walman was sound asleep at his post, as usual. She considered briefly that waking him might be a good idea, but decided she didn't want to be seen, should Alonzo wake and drag her back to the tent.
She carefully made her way to the hatch of the Venus-class ship and down the metal ladder, into the cockpit. Passing by all the glowing monitors, she once again entered the cold sleep bay, and resumed her work.
"Tyler's Syndrome . . . " she mused, reading from the computer's symptom-diagnosis bank. "No, no, she would have been obviously sick for months before her collapse . . . Szyszik's, no . . . " She sighed, casting her gaze to the metal ceiling of the bay. This was hopeless. All these things were rare diseases on the Stations, or on Earth. There was no information available on G889 diseases. Which is why Julia didn't have a chance.
With this thought of hopelessness, her eyelids began to sag. Sleep finally overcame her as she slumped against the table in resignation. She wasn't going to get anywhere tonight, Alonzo was right, especially as tired as she was . . . And as she rested her chin on the diagnostic glove she wore on her hand, which she had interfaced to the ship's medical computer, an entry flashed up: THE SYNDROME.
* * * * * *
"We're *what*? You can't just make this decision unilaterally, Danziger," Baines reacted with shock when Danziger gave the order. "Besides, I thought you were *against* this last night at the discussion?"
"Damn the discussion," Danziger said as he loaded a crate into the back of the transrover. Then he stopped, and turned to face the man. "Listen, I don't want to go, either. Maybe even less than you do, but that doesn't change the fact that Devon asked me to get you all to New Pacifica."
Baines' face clouded with anger. "Hey, man, no matter what Devon told you, we still haven't taken a vote, Mr. Democracy."
"'Hey, man' nothin', she was in charge, she brought us here, and I'll be damned if I let her wishes be forgotten," he said, and stormed off to dismantle his own tent, and tell everyone else to get a move on.
* * * * * *
"C'mon Uly, time to go, time to pack up," Danziger said, shaking the boy gently awake. He yawned, and looked up him blearily, rubbing his eyes.
"Time to go where?" he asked sleepily, sitting up slowly on his cot. He noted that True already had her sleeping bag rolled and her crate packed up. "Where are we going?"
Danziger gave him a pat on the back. "Time to go, pal. We're movin' on."
Uly's eyes filled with shock. "What?! No, we can't do that . . . "
"Sorry, Uly, but it's what your mother wanted." Danziger sighed and took a seat at the end of the boy's bed. He knew this wasn't gonna be easy . . . "I know you don't wanna go--hell, I don't even wanna go--but it's the only way."
"But Julia's gonna cure her! I know she is!" he protested, tears filling his eyes in spite of himself. "Any minute now . . . "
Something inside Danziger shook with emotion when he saw this little boy dissolve into tears. But it never made it out. He was in charge now, had to set a firm example for the rest of the group. No matter his feelings for Dev--*no*, his feelings *about Devon's condition*--he had to keep them going. It's what she had wanted.
"Listen Uly," he took the boy by the shoulders and looked him straight in the eye. "Your mom is very sick, you understand that, right?" Uly sniffled, but nodded. "You've gotta understand that there's a chance . . . " his voice practically choked, but he disguised it quickly. "There's a chance that your mom won't . . . " He shut his eyes and looked skyward, praying for strength, silently, "Your mom won't recover."
Uly shook his head stubbornly, tears streaming down his face. "No, no she's gonna be okay. Julia's gonna find out what's wrong, or . . . or the Terrians are gonna fix 'er--"
"No!" Danziger didn't know why, but he immediately objected. Uly looked up at him, his face wet with tears, puzzled. "The Terrians are *not* going to 'fix' her." Uly swallowed. "If anyone is, Julia is going to. But not right now. I'm sorry Uly, but you're gonna have to wait."
"No..." Uly said softly, and looked like he was going to collapse into absolute hysterics, but instead he sat up straighter on his cot, wiped tears from his eyes and said, "I . . . I think I'm gonna go help pack a little, Mr. Danziger," he said quietly, standing up and heading for the tent flap.
Danziger nodded, and Ulysses exited. Pressing his palms to his face he let out a soft moan. That little boy definitely had his mother's spirit. No matter how hard it was, he was going to continue on. But what about Danziger himself?
* * * * * *
"Julia, Julia you're *not* gonna like this . . . " Alonzo said, skipping the last three rungs of the ladder to land on two feet in the cockpit of the science ship. Heading straight for the cryosleep room, he continue, "Julia, you in here?" There was no response, which puzzled him. When he had awoken to find her absent, he had immediately assumed that was where she was, and had begun to stalk towards the crashed ship after her. However, on the way he was informed by Walman that Danziger was planning on pulling up stakes.
"Julia?" he continued to call as he made his way through the ship. When he entered the bay he was not all too surprised to find Julia slumped over on her diagnostic readouts, her eyes closed in sleep. Shaking his head, he approached her, and shook her gently. "Julia?" She stirred slightly, but didn't fully wake. "Julia you're not gonna like this--"
"Alonzo?" she looked up at him sleepily, lifting her face off of her diaglove where it had rested. Intricate lines had imprinted themselves upon her face from the uneven surface of the glove. She grimaced as she stretched, trying to relieve her aching muscles. "What is it . . . " she carefully flexed the arm wearing the diaglove, as it was especially sore, then she checked to make sure her diagnostic equipment on the table had not been damaged.
Alonzo sighed. "It's Danziger, he . . . "
His voice faded into the back of her still-sleepy mind as she looked over the display, which bore the entry on the Syndrome. Half-awake, she began skimming the information. As she read each symptom in the final stage, her eyes grew wider. "Oh my God Alonzo . . . " She grabbed his arm, staring transfixed at the display.
"I know, Julia, I can't believe Danziger would go and do something like this but--"
"No, no, Alonzo, look at this . . . "
He looked over the readouts. Naturally, not being a doctor, nothing registered. "Yeah, the Syndrome, so what?"
She pulled him in closer, still staring at the display. "I don't know why I didn't see it before. It's so obvious . . . "
"Didn't see what, Julia?"
"It's *so* obvious!" she continued, oblivious to his words. "Why didn't I think of it . . . I worked at the Syndrome Ward for four years . . . It's so obvious . . . it's . . . it's . . . " She looked up at him, now gazing straight into her eyes. "Alonzo, this is impossible."
Alonzo blinked, kneeling down beside her. "The Syndrome? But I thought that was just a childhood disease."
Julia seemed confused as well, though still insistent on her diagnosis. "It is . . . I mean, so far as we know. No adults have ever developed it . . But then, no adults had ever been to G889 before, either . . . "
"So you think the planet has something to do with it?"
Julia paused, a hypothesis forming gradually in her mind. She faced him, and began, "Alonzo, bear with me here for a moment, if you will . . . " Taking a deep breath, she continued, "When Elizabeth Anson died, she seemed to know that there was something wrong with Devon, right?" Alonzo nodded. "Well . . . she also gave us that warning, about the planet 'rejecting' us. Now that I think about it . . . Anson's generation had never seen the Syndrome. I mean, it just wasn't known. What if . . . what if the science team came down with the Syndrome. They wouldn't know what it was, because it wasn't in their database. Elizabeth's equipment wouldn't have been able to identify a virus or bacteria that was making them ill, just like the doctors on the Stations couldn't identify the cause. Possibly it's something triggered by the planet, who knows. At any rate, they'd begin getting sick. They'd feel a little weaker, have shortness of breath, etc. Nothing you would have too much trouble hiding.
"The scientists, knowing they were on a new frontier, would immediately report any illness. Devon, however, being as stubborn as she is," she gave Alonzo a knowing look, "Tried to hide it." All the while, Alonzo listened with rapt attention, raising no questions for fear of disturbing her line of thought. "Remember that first night, at the campfire? When Bennett interrupted Elizabeth? What did she say? Something about . . . something about being on the planet eight years until . . . and he cut her off. Perhaps she was going to say until they began falling ill. The team could have put themselves back into cold sleep and sent themselves home so that the doctors on the Stations could help cure their ailment. Of course, they never got there. And now, it's happened to Devon."
As Julia appeared to be finished, Alonzo voiced a query. "But . . . if it took the science crew eight years to become sick, then why did it take Devon six months?"
This caused the young doctor to frown. This moment's inspiration had not answered all the questions. She slowly replied, "I guess . . . I guess it has something to do with the fact that Uly had the Syndrome. Because of that she was already . . . predisposed . . . to the condition, while the science team was."
"Which," Alonzo continued, "Would mean that we, also, would come down with this in about 8 years."
"That's a possibility," she admitted. "But this is only a theory. It explains my earlier confusion about getting cross-references to the cold sleep syndrome, though. The two have remarkably similar symptoms. It is, actually, possible that Bennett and Anson *did* have CSS, but there's little doubt in my mind that Devon has some . . . *mutated* form of the Syndrome that Ulysses was afflicted with."
The two sat in silence for a moment, in the crypt room of the ship, while outside the rest of the group was packing up their camp. Then Alonzo asked, "So where do we go from here?"
I'd like to extend a special thanks to Nancy, Ellie and Margaret, and of course anybody else who I at one time or another asked for their opinion. To them I have this to say. "Well, whaddya know, I actually finished it!!" = )
I've written a little blurb, like what would be written on the back of a novel. Just to give you an idea of what you're in for, here it is:
They're alive, but their leader isn't. Or so it seems.
Devon Adair, founder of the Eden Project, mother of Ulysses Adair, and the one who was responsible for bringing all of the Eden Advance colonists to G889, is ill. Their only doctor is completely baffled.
But just as the group seems to be torn apart by arguing, something happens to bring them all together. But still, Devon's survival is in doubt, and if they can save her, what will be the cost?
That's all folks, on with the story . . .
Elizabeth
Look Into Your Heart 1/6 by Elizabeth Heckert
~In Memory of Alpha Omega Dani~ February 12th 1996-August 19th 1997 Beloved daughter & Pet (one of my gerbils)
--------------------------------------
22 light-years away from the planet the human species calls home, a nine-year-old boy sat, perched atop a crate, staring with the distant expression that only a troubled child could wear. It was Ulysses Adair, his chin resting on his hands as he focused his attention completely upon the object of his observation.
They'd been stopped there for two weeks, having not made a move since their leader, Devon Adair, Uly's mother, collapsed mysteriously. Just when the group had thought they were recovering from all their ills, the woman who had brought them all there had fallen. Devon had yet to recover. In fact, some had voiced serious doubts as to whether or not she would *ever* recover--whether they were all just wasting their time by staying put while their only doctor worked for a cure.
That was the discussion that evening, as the Eden Advance, as always, gathered about a welcoming campfire. Coffee was sipped in between exchanges of heated words--all had very strong feelings in this matter. Some were suggesting the group move on. Cut their losses and get to New Pacifica. They could come back for Devon later . . . she would want it that way.
But others, including Bess Martin, insisted they stay for as long as possible. Without Devon it wouldn't even be worth getting to New Pacifica. Very few of them knew enough about the colony to do much good without her guidance. However, the group was in a stalemate. Uly, being a child, couldn't actively take part in the discussion, and feared that if he did he would merely come across as some scared baby--which he wasn't.
Yale wasn't saying anything either. Though he tried not to show it for fear of upsetting Uly more, he was obviously deeply hurt by Devon's situation. Danziger, also, didn't seem too eager to talk, even though Devon had asked him to look after the group in her absence. Occasionally he would strike down some reasoning, one way or the other, but never really took a position.
"Julia could come up with the answer any second," Bess was saying, "you never know."
"*Exactly*," Walman interrupted, across the fire from her, "we *don't* know. That's just the thing. It could be any second, any day, any month, it could be *years* before she figures it out!"
Linda Magus nodded in agreement with Walman. "It's . . . " she sighed. "It's how Devon would want it."
Danziger snorted. "Don't be so sure of that." All heads turned to him, but he sipped his coffee nonchalantly, as if he had said nothing.
Uly shifted uncomfortably on the crate that he had been sitting on, casting his gaze away from the crashed science ship upon which it had been glued. His mother was in that ship, in one of the cold sleep crypts, as her fate was being decided outside. He settled down and listened to the adults continue to argue. Who knew if they'd ever come to a decision. Uly doubted they would. They'd just keep arguing about it until those who wanted to pick up and leave realized that they hadn't gotten anywhere and the other side was winning.
"Hey, Uly." Ulysses jumped when he felt a hand rest on his shoulder. He looked up to see the imposing figure of John Danziger standing over him. "C'mon buddy, it's getting late out, time for bed." The mechanic also had his sleepy daughter at his side, True almost nodding off right there where she stood.
He shook his head. "No, I wanna stay . . . I'm not tired . . ." Unfortunately, he failed to stifle the yawn that came as a result of the suggestion of sleep. All it took was one more look from Danziger to make him sigh and get up, loping towards the tent he now shared with John and True.
* * * * * *
"Yet another pointless discussion . . . " Alonzo Solace voiced his discontent to himself as he stepped down the ladder and into the hulk of the crashed spaceship. The main cockpit was empty, the lights on its consoles still lit after all this time. Alonzo passed quickly through the control room, heading for the cold sleep bay, where he knew he could find her.
Sure enough, Julia Heller was seated on a crate she had dragged down from the outside, bent over the medical diagnostic equipment, her lovely features creased into a frown. She looked up when she heard his opening remarks, twisting around on her seat and sighing.
"Get anywhere?" Alonzo asked as he joined her by the bank of computers built into the wall of the cryochamber. Julia had been searching for an answer to Devon's illness ever since Devon had been put into cold sleep, going over and over the information recorded in those few minutes by her diagnostic glove.
Julia didn't even answer him, because she knew he was sure of her reply. "Was the discussion that bad? What have they decided?"
"*Nothing*," Alonzo reported, crouching down beside her, for lack of a seat. "And I doubt anything will ever be decided."
She didn't bother questioning him any further. They'd been having "discussions" for the past two weeks about what to do, and they had never gotten anywhere. That's why Julia had decided not to waste her time up there when she could be in the cold sleep bay of the ship trying to figure out what was going on.
Once again, she became absorbed in her work, running through her catalog of illnesses, trying to find something, anything that came close to what had silenced Devon Adair. She didn't even want to consider the possibility of it being a completely unknown disease, though that was almost definitely what it was. What had Elizabeth Anson said? The planet was rejecting them? But on what evidence had she based this on? Was it, perhaps, just caused by some sort of delirium in the last few minutes of her life?
Alonzo looked on, over her shoulder, though he couldn't make head nor tail of what she was doing. "What have you got so far?"
The doctor sighed, slumping where she sat, and resting her elbows on the table set up before the computer with which she worked. Shaking her head, she told him, "It just doesn't make any sense."
"What doesn't make any sense?"
"This," Julia said, motioning to where Devon stood, frozen behind the clouded window of a cold sleep crypt. "Everything! None of it makes sense. And I keep getting cross-references to Bennett and Elizabeth's condition." She eyed the computer suspiciously, as if it was spouting false data.
The pilot moved a bit closer, looking over the readout. "Well, maybe that's something," he pointed out.
"But that's *what*?" She sighed, shaking her head, raking her fingers through her blond hair, which she had tied back in a ponytail. "I mean, that's impossible. Bennett and Elizabeth's condition was clearly the syndrome," she paused. Then closed her eyes. "The cold sleep syndrome, that is," she corrected herself. She was tired, making slips. "But it just doesn't make sense."
He shrugged. "Maybe it does."
She looked at him, and he grinned. "I know, I know, you're just trying to help."
"Maybe you need some rest."
"No, no," she waved him off. "I'm fine. I'm just . . . frustrated, that's all."
"Well whatever it is," he said, taking her hand and indicating that she was to stand up, which she did grudgingly, "You're not thinking clearly. I really think you ought to get some rest."
Looking into his sparkling eyes, Julia grimaced. He was right. She could use a bit of rest. "But my work--"
"Will be here tomorrow. This group's certainly not going anywhere. Now come on," he said, leading her towards the exit from the bay. "If you're not making progress, then our argument for staying is moot. C'mon, Doc, time to visit the sandman."
And she followed him, mumbling, "I doubt this'll help . . . "
* * * * * *
Julia tossed and turned most of the night, unable to rest. Every time she was on the verge of sleep, her mind would snap back into possible diagnoses. By the time she realized what she was doing, she was fully awake again, and had to clear her mind and try again. This cycle would have continued endlessly, until she finally decided she'd had enough.
Taking care not to disturb Alonzo, who slept soundly beside her on the narrow cot, she pulled on her jacket and tiptoed out of her tent, and across the campground. Walman was sound asleep at his post, as usual. She considered briefly that waking him might be a good idea, but decided she didn't want to be seen, should Alonzo wake and drag her back to the tent.
She carefully made her way to the hatch of the Venus-class ship and down the metal ladder, into the cockpit. Passing by all the glowing monitors, she once again entered the cold sleep bay, and resumed her work.
"Tyler's Syndrome . . . " she mused, reading from the computer's symptom-diagnosis bank. "No, no, she would have been obviously sick for months before her collapse . . . Szyszik's, no . . . " She sighed, casting her gaze to the metal ceiling of the bay. This was hopeless. All these things were rare diseases on the Stations, or on Earth. There was no information available on G889 diseases. Which is why Julia didn't have a chance.
With this thought of hopelessness, her eyelids began to sag. Sleep finally overcame her as she slumped against the table in resignation. She wasn't going to get anywhere tonight, Alonzo was right, especially as tired as she was . . . And as she rested her chin on the diagnostic glove she wore on her hand, which she had interfaced to the ship's medical computer, an entry flashed up: THE SYNDROME.
* * * * * *
"We're *what*? You can't just make this decision unilaterally, Danziger," Baines reacted with shock when Danziger gave the order. "Besides, I thought you were *against* this last night at the discussion?"
"Damn the discussion," Danziger said as he loaded a crate into the back of the transrover. Then he stopped, and turned to face the man. "Listen, I don't want to go, either. Maybe even less than you do, but that doesn't change the fact that Devon asked me to get you all to New Pacifica."
Baines' face clouded with anger. "Hey, man, no matter what Devon told you, we still haven't taken a vote, Mr. Democracy."
"'Hey, man' nothin', she was in charge, she brought us here, and I'll be damned if I let her wishes be forgotten," he said, and stormed off to dismantle his own tent, and tell everyone else to get a move on.
* * * * * *
"C'mon Uly, time to go, time to pack up," Danziger said, shaking the boy gently awake. He yawned, and looked up him blearily, rubbing his eyes.
"Time to go where?" he asked sleepily, sitting up slowly on his cot. He noted that True already had her sleeping bag rolled and her crate packed up. "Where are we going?"
Danziger gave him a pat on the back. "Time to go, pal. We're movin' on."
Uly's eyes filled with shock. "What?! No, we can't do that . . . "
"Sorry, Uly, but it's what your mother wanted." Danziger sighed and took a seat at the end of the boy's bed. He knew this wasn't gonna be easy . . . "I know you don't wanna go--hell, I don't even wanna go--but it's the only way."
"But Julia's gonna cure her! I know she is!" he protested, tears filling his eyes in spite of himself. "Any minute now . . . "
Something inside Danziger shook with emotion when he saw this little boy dissolve into tears. But it never made it out. He was in charge now, had to set a firm example for the rest of the group. No matter his feelings for Dev--*no*, his feelings *about Devon's condition*--he had to keep them going. It's what she had wanted.
"Listen Uly," he took the boy by the shoulders and looked him straight in the eye. "Your mom is very sick, you understand that, right?" Uly sniffled, but nodded. "You've gotta understand that there's a chance . . . " his voice practically choked, but he disguised it quickly. "There's a chance that your mom won't . . . " He shut his eyes and looked skyward, praying for strength, silently, "Your mom won't recover."
Uly shook his head stubbornly, tears streaming down his face. "No, no she's gonna be okay. Julia's gonna find out what's wrong, or . . . or the Terrians are gonna fix 'er--"
"No!" Danziger didn't know why, but he immediately objected. Uly looked up at him, his face wet with tears, puzzled. "The Terrians are *not* going to 'fix' her." Uly swallowed. "If anyone is, Julia is going to. But not right now. I'm sorry Uly, but you're gonna have to wait."
"No..." Uly said softly, and looked like he was going to collapse into absolute hysterics, but instead he sat up straighter on his cot, wiped tears from his eyes and said, "I . . . I think I'm gonna go help pack a little, Mr. Danziger," he said quietly, standing up and heading for the tent flap.
Danziger nodded, and Ulysses exited. Pressing his palms to his face he let out a soft moan. That little boy definitely had his mother's spirit. No matter how hard it was, he was going to continue on. But what about Danziger himself?
* * * * * *
"Julia, Julia you're *not* gonna like this . . . " Alonzo said, skipping the last three rungs of the ladder to land on two feet in the cockpit of the science ship. Heading straight for the cryosleep room, he continue, "Julia, you in here?" There was no response, which puzzled him. When he had awoken to find her absent, he had immediately assumed that was where she was, and had begun to stalk towards the crashed ship after her. However, on the way he was informed by Walman that Danziger was planning on pulling up stakes.
"Julia?" he continued to call as he made his way through the ship. When he entered the bay he was not all too surprised to find Julia slumped over on her diagnostic readouts, her eyes closed in sleep. Shaking his head, he approached her, and shook her gently. "Julia?" She stirred slightly, but didn't fully wake. "Julia you're not gonna like this--"
"Alonzo?" she looked up at him sleepily, lifting her face off of her diaglove where it had rested. Intricate lines had imprinted themselves upon her face from the uneven surface of the glove. She grimaced as she stretched, trying to relieve her aching muscles. "What is it . . . " she carefully flexed the arm wearing the diaglove, as it was especially sore, then she checked to make sure her diagnostic equipment on the table had not been damaged.
Alonzo sighed. "It's Danziger, he . . . "
His voice faded into the back of her still-sleepy mind as she looked over the display, which bore the entry on the Syndrome. Half-awake, she began skimming the information. As she read each symptom in the final stage, her eyes grew wider. "Oh my God Alonzo . . . " She grabbed his arm, staring transfixed at the display.
"I know, Julia, I can't believe Danziger would go and do something like this but--"
"No, no, Alonzo, look at this . . . "
He looked over the readouts. Naturally, not being a doctor, nothing registered. "Yeah, the Syndrome, so what?"
She pulled him in closer, still staring at the display. "I don't know why I didn't see it before. It's so obvious . . . "
"Didn't see what, Julia?"
"It's *so* obvious!" she continued, oblivious to his words. "Why didn't I think of it . . . I worked at the Syndrome Ward for four years . . . It's so obvious . . . it's . . . it's . . . " She looked up at him, now gazing straight into her eyes. "Alonzo, this is impossible."
Alonzo blinked, kneeling down beside her. "The Syndrome? But I thought that was just a childhood disease."
Julia seemed confused as well, though still insistent on her diagnosis. "It is . . . I mean, so far as we know. No adults have ever developed it . . But then, no adults had ever been to G889 before, either . . . "
"So you think the planet has something to do with it?"
Julia paused, a hypothesis forming gradually in her mind. She faced him, and began, "Alonzo, bear with me here for a moment, if you will . . . " Taking a deep breath, she continued, "When Elizabeth Anson died, she seemed to know that there was something wrong with Devon, right?" Alonzo nodded. "Well . . . she also gave us that warning, about the planet 'rejecting' us. Now that I think about it . . . Anson's generation had never seen the Syndrome. I mean, it just wasn't known. What if . . . what if the science team came down with the Syndrome. They wouldn't know what it was, because it wasn't in their database. Elizabeth's equipment wouldn't have been able to identify a virus or bacteria that was making them ill, just like the doctors on the Stations couldn't identify the cause. Possibly it's something triggered by the planet, who knows. At any rate, they'd begin getting sick. They'd feel a little weaker, have shortness of breath, etc. Nothing you would have too much trouble hiding.
"The scientists, knowing they were on a new frontier, would immediately report any illness. Devon, however, being as stubborn as she is," she gave Alonzo a knowing look, "Tried to hide it." All the while, Alonzo listened with rapt attention, raising no questions for fear of disturbing her line of thought. "Remember that first night, at the campfire? When Bennett interrupted Elizabeth? What did she say? Something about . . . something about being on the planet eight years until . . . and he cut her off. Perhaps she was going to say until they began falling ill. The team could have put themselves back into cold sleep and sent themselves home so that the doctors on the Stations could help cure their ailment. Of course, they never got there. And now, it's happened to Devon."
As Julia appeared to be finished, Alonzo voiced a query. "But . . . if it took the science crew eight years to become sick, then why did it take Devon six months?"
This caused the young doctor to frown. This moment's inspiration had not answered all the questions. She slowly replied, "I guess . . . I guess it has something to do with the fact that Uly had the Syndrome. Because of that she was already . . . predisposed . . . to the condition, while the science team was."
"Which," Alonzo continued, "Would mean that we, also, would come down with this in about 8 years."
"That's a possibility," she admitted. "But this is only a theory. It explains my earlier confusion about getting cross-references to the cold sleep syndrome, though. The two have remarkably similar symptoms. It is, actually, possible that Bennett and Anson *did* have CSS, but there's little doubt in my mind that Devon has some . . . *mutated* form of the Syndrome that Ulysses was afflicted with."
The two sat in silence for a moment, in the crypt room of the ship, while outside the rest of the group was packing up their camp. Then Alonzo asked, "So where do we go from here?"