The Engineering bay was clean and restored to full function within hours. Medical contained the two corpses. The crew of six met during lunch in the mess hall to debrief and console. Wong’s rule of the ship was to staff Command and Control all of the time with rare exception. However, any computer terminal could be configured to a pilot program. None was as ergonomic as sitting in CAC pilot bay. The mess had such a master display on a wall for these occasions. Lucinda, Savanna, and Cyrus sat together on one side of the table. Maricia and Raul held hands opposite them. Suresh had pushed his chair apart from the rest, silent and expressionless, often manipulating his handheld computer. Dr. Ivanna Gnawcoeur was in the room, assessing the status of each crew member using their body and verbal language. She could also monitor pulse and breathing rates, blood volume status, and several other physical characteristics that augmented her psychological assessment. Suresh made no eye contact with anyone but would briefly glance at her. The menu had been adjusted to accommodate mourning. The process of eating was over but not much had been consumed.
Cyrus tried to remember what it was he was going to say. He had rehearsed this half a dozen times for Savanna but now had gone blank. Savanna gestured several circles with her index finger, indicating he should get rolling with his speech. “Having been promoted from second in command, it is probably appropriate that I say something more or less official. I just don’t know what to say. First priority is to figure out how to meet the needs in Engineering.”
“Cy, maybe it would be better if I talked,” Savanna interrupted. “People, not tasks, remember?”
“Go ahead.”
“Cy has performance anxiety.”
“Does it strike anyone else as peculiar that the main computer placed Cyrus in command?” Raul asked.
“I was always second in command,” Cyrus said curtly.
Savanna agreed with Raul but only in her thoughts. “The decision is made. We should support the new commandant. So, back on topic, Chen was a likable leader. He had the final word about putting this crew together. He was instrumental in all the phases of getting this mission under way. He helped in selection, training, supply, and everything. He named the robots, evidence of his sense of humor.”
“Is that what you call it?” Gnawcoeur interjected. It brought a wry smile on a couple of faces.
Savanna continued. “We owe him a great deal of gratitude. Leila was an excellent engineer. She was also easy to get along with, a great team member. The death of these two makes completion of the mission more difficult.”
“We need to make some assignments to cover the shortage of personnel,” Cyrus said.
“Maybe you should work on that and present a plan to us,” Savanna said. “Later, Cy, not now. On a personal note, there are no words”—Savanna paused as she choked on grief; she patted her eyes and dabbed her nose with a kerchief—“no words that convey emotions any of us feel now. There are just feelings, complex, confusing, and painful. Words like ‘betrayal’ come to mind. I can’t imagine how either of you feel, Suresh, Lucinda. But we are here collectively and each of us personally with something to offer you, some measure of support.”
“Thanks,” Lucinda said. “You have been great, all of you.”
“Of all manners of death we could have anticipated, this was not one of them. Each of us will accommodate to this injury, not without scars and not without making mistakes. Sorrow will change each of us, as a chisel does a stone. The result is not predictable. I know from experience. We cannot wallow in sadness and mourning because we have work, duties, and a mission that has not changed.”
Suresh remained impassive, expressionless. Lucinda put an arm around Savanna and squeezed. “Thank you, Savanna,” she said.
“I was thinking about a memorial service in two or three days. How does that sound?”
“It’s a good idea,” Maricia offered.
“I think we need to get input from the med-bots about timing,” added Cyrus. “Rules.”
“Suresh, have you thought about what you would like to do and when?” Savanna asked.
It took a moment for him to respond. He looked at Gnawcoeur but no one else. “That’s fine. A joint service is probably most efficient.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’m certain.”
“Two days from now will be psychologically optimal,” said Dr. Gnawcoeur.
Late that night, Raul, unable to sleep, poured through the ship’s log. The mainframe had completed its analysis of the fatal event. Interestingly, it had found some irregularities in the software that affected the console that killed Chen and Leila. The conclusion reached by the mainframe was protected, locked from anyone but the commander. That served to intensify his insomnia. He looked at the psyche profiles updated after their meeting. Gnawcoeur had entered. Her assessment of the crew was that two of six were likely to experience psychological decompensation. That report didn’t go to the new commander as he was on the list. As he tried to read through it, the screen changed, and a message appeared. “Entry Sealed. Further access denied.” He left his small station and very slowly made his way back to quarters where Maricia snored softly, beautifully under a satin sheet. He sat and watched.