The next morning, the crew of five was seated in the dining area. Breakfast was well-flavored high protein and fat.
“I’m sorry I didn’t knock, you two.”
“It was a bit of a shock, Lucinda,” Maricia said. “You have apologized enough. I’m over it.”
“I have no idea how you guys got into that position.”
“Lucinda!” Maricia objected as Raul hid his face in a hand. Lucinda and Savanna laughed long and loud, joined by the couple, infected by the mirth. Cyrus showed no emotion.
“I would like to congratulate our medical team,” Savanna said, raising her glass of tomato juice. “They have successfully made seventeen embryos, now frozen and stored. Our goal was to have sixteen to twenty, and we are there. Let’s drink to their success!”
Four glasses were raised, clinked, and sampled. Ivanna gave Cyrus a drink from a polyacrylate unbreakable cup. He glowered, his hands restrained. He swallowed.
“The embryos could have been made before we left,” Raul said.
“Right,” Maricia answered. “But we had months of almost nothing to do on board. It was a good way of keeping us sharp.”
“And avoiding dangers of transport,” Savanna said. More aimless chatter animated breakfast for a few moments. Durgon Kushman wheeled furiously about, delivering orders spiced with insults. “Ms. Fischer, Lucy Goosey, just to make a liver pate for you, I killed a goose. For my next act, I will goose a killer.” He jerked toward Cyrus, who startled.
“Durgon!” Lucinda scolded.
He bowed his head and teetered off in shame. Ivanna offered food to Cyrus, but he refused.
“I would like to offer another toast,” Savanna said. “To Lucinda for finding the hazard ahead so we could avoid it.”
Four glasses were raised again. Cyrus sat still, hands restrained, eyes unfocused. Ivanna gave him another drink, which, surprisingly, he swallowed. All had expected him to spit it out. They had agreed to have him join breakfast, an attempt at rehabilitation and reconciliation as they administered the medication spiked in his juice.
“Raul, any news from COM?” Savanna asked, ignoring the remark.
Raul babbled about inconsequential news items for two minutes or so. Maricia extended the report by another couple of minutes by asking for clarifications. By this time, Cyrus was listing and wobbling.
“Cy?” Lucinda asked. He made an attempt to respond, eyes unfocused and mouth open, drool starting from the corner of his mouth. Lucinda dabbed the saliva with a napkin and pulled his face to look at her. “Cyrus, talk to me.”
“OK, what do you want?” was probably what he tried to say, but it came out as a slurred phonation devoid of consonants. Everyone smiled.
Lola entered the room. Together the med-bots picked him up and placed him on the stretcher outside the mess and glided him into the lift and away to Medical.
“This is distressing,” Maricia whispered.
“Now what?” Raul asked.
Silence answered first. Lucinda and Maricia exchanged looks before Lucinda spoke. “The bots are going to combine and conduct an analysis. They then prognosticate about recovery or repair. That would normally take about three or four days to be complete.”
“Options?” he asked.
“Around this point of the journey, the rules get pretty harsh, especially if rehab is needed. We have only a couple of weeks until we get to the final phase of prehibernation. At that point, we can have only the healthy.”
“And that’s where I come in,” Kushman announced in New Jerseyean. “Perfect nutrition, precisely proportioned, deliciously prepared, and attractively presented.” He slapped a scoop of dirty rice on Raul’s plate.
“The mission protocol cut point is tomorrow,” Savanna said as the chuckles subsided. She moved to the vacant chair next to Lucinda.
“So we don’t have four days?” Lucinda declared.
“I hate this,” Maricia whispered again.
The inevitable decision smothered them in a penumbra of gloom. The gravity of thoughts was too intense to let speech escape. The pragmatic and harsh orders made the room smaller and the air heavier.
Raul squirmed, stood with effort and began to pace. Eventually, two small puddles formed on the table below Maricia’s bowed head. Lucinda pulled Savanna and Maricia close and put an arm around each. “I love you two,” she said ever so softly. With those words, life was breathed back into the chamber.
“With so many things,” Savanna said, “the most painful part is making the decision, less so in carrying it out. Marriage, divorce, buying a house are all like that. Bringing life into existence and taking it out are not.”
“He doesn’t have to die,” Raul objected.
“I wish that were true,” responded Lucinda.
“Emotionally, I find the rules objectionable, maybe even immoral,” said Maricia as she turned to Raul. “Objectively, I can’t argue against them because, in this case, all of our lives are at stake.”
Twenty minutes later, the mess hall was empty. Lucinda and Maricia were in Medical, watching through a large window as Dr. Jekyll mentally dissected Cyrus. Raul and Savanna were in COM, working on a report about Cyrus.