Susan had been looking at the strangely dark world that used to be her home as they walked to the waiting crowd. Surprisingly--or not--she asked the first question, “Have you destroyed our sun”
Wills looked down at the small sky watcher and slowly shook his head, “No, your sun is still there. What has happened is that we have left it far behind us; we, our ship and your entire planet, are now headed into space far from your sun.”
“We would not go with you - you have killed us <accusation-possible criminal intent>” said Joe.
Okay, Wills had a hunch this was not going to go well. His voice took on a command edge, “No, what happened was an accident that was far beyond our knowledge. We had no idea that this was possible. The situation now is very dangerous for all of us; we will either all live together or we will all die together.”
He turned and pointed a finger into Susan’s face, “Listen very carefully to me because I trust you more than Joe to get this right. We are working on a plan that might save us all. You must get word to all of your people and tell them to harvest all of their crops that they can; there will no longer be a sun and all plants will die. They must be prepared to live in the dark for about five months until we reach a place where we can move back into normal space. Until then, all of your people must do what they can to stay alive. Do you understand me?”
Susan stared at Wills’ com pad as it interpreted his words; then she looked up at him, “We go to another sun <question>”
That question surprised Wills; Susan was leaping ahead.
“It will not be a sun that your planet will orbit; it will be a place where all of your people will be rescued and removed from this world. Until then, your people must survive.”
Wills felt compelled to make as strong an impression as possible; he put a hand on each of their shoulders, pulled them even closer, and spoke in a harsh voice that he hoped the translator would pass along, “It does not matter what you feel is the right thing to do. You no longer have a choice in anything except to do as I say or die. If you do what I say, you have a good chance to live. If you refuse to do as I tell you, you die. Your sun is gone forever and all plant life will now die. Harvest all the crops that you can so that you have food for the next five months. If you do not do this . . . you . . . will . . . die. Do you understand me?”
He, finally, got a frightened “yes” from both of them and backed away, “We will report any progress in our plan.”
They turned and started back to the ship. Wills looked out toward the ocean; even through the glow of the lights, the absolute blackness was disturbing. He noticed the frantic way his eyes moved in their search for something, anything.
“It’s like some surrealistic nightmare. Do we have a psychiatrist aboard the Weasel?”
Ames and Twisst were on either side of him and both looked up at him, “I…don’t know.” said Twisst, “I will check with Roland; he has been on the ship and should be acquainted with the passengers.”
#
Wills entered the medical section and was surprised to find a high level of activity. All of the injuries had gathered here and the lack of obvious damage to the ship had pushed this part of the fallout of recent events out of his mind. He found Captain Edward Banko, the chief medical officer, helping one of his med-techs make final adjustments to the cast on the arm of a young Forester girl.
“How are things going, Ed?”
Banko gave a quick look over his shoulder, “Hey, Admiral; so far nothing we can’t handle. Forester physiology is close enough to ours that our radiative and induced therapies seem to be working just fine. Luckily, there has been no real need for drugs, and I’ve ordered that none be given.”
He approved the setting and straightened up, “So, what can I do for you, Admiral?”
“I’m looking for Doctor Bernard Jordan.”
Banko was almost as tall as Wills, but he still had to stretch upward to look over people toward the back of the room, “Ah…back office; he’s checking our data entries for these patients.”
Wills turned in that direction, “Thanks, see you later.”
He found the thin, balding man examining an entry on a screen, “Doctor Jordan?”
The interruption startled him, “Huh, what? Oh . . . Admiral Reynolds!”
He rose from his seat and pointed to another chair at the side of the desk, “Have a seat. What brings you down here?”
Wills took the offered seat, “Doctor, I understand that you are a psychiatrist!”
Jordan leaned closer and smiled in a soft professional way that made Wills think that Jordan was looking at a patient, “Why, yes, Admiral; in fact, my wife, Katrin, and I are both psychiatrists. She is helping in the kitchen; she likes to cook. Is there some problem you would like to discuss? You can close the door if you wish; or we can find a quieter room.”
“Ah…no, it’s not that; at least not yet. Doctor, I was just outside the ship talking to the local leaders and I had the opportunity to look into the blackness that is the inside of an isolator drive field. It was…disturbing. It made me remember that there are many environments throughout human controlled space, and even on the Earth, where normal day-night cycles are not available. We all are now trapped on a planet that will not see any external illumination of any kind for several months. I would like you and your wife, if you are willing, to formulate means of combating the negative effects of this
