Helt looked toward the door. The woman was slightly taller than Jordan. She had short, platinum blond hair, no makeup that he could see from across the room, and was wearing a standard blue Navy ship suit. She radiated stern command authority as she stood at attention and took in the scene in front of her.
“I believe that is Katrin Jordan. I haven’t met her but I have heard disturbing reports from several of my people. I gather that she got her psychiatric degree from the Institute for Advanced Sadomasochism and Prison Administration. I strongly suggest that you keep your shoes shined and don’t slouch in your chair.”
##
“DOCTOR BERNARD JORDAN REQUESTS ADMISSION TO THE BRIDGE DECK.”
It was midnight, ship time, and Wills had just been transferring the watch to CeCe.
“AI, admit Doctor Jordan.” said Wills.
“Have you met Jordan, CeCe?”
“Yes, sir; I’ve heard that he and his wife never seem to sleep, or else they take turns being everywhere at the same time. I also hear that they have commandeered a floater and pilot to get them around the towns. Apparently they are taking their new positions very seriously.”
Further discussion ended as Jordan came out of a passageway at a rapid walk. The energy he displayed was tiring to behold.
“Ah, excellent, I got you both at the same time. Admiral, Captain; if you have a moment, I would like to give you both a quick report on our progress.”
CeCe was in her command seat and Wills leaned against the console, “Go ahead, Doctor; now is as good a time as any.”
Jordan pressed his hands together and settled into lecture mode, “Katrin and I have settled on two primary methods of holding off the most common effects of the lack of a normal diurnal cycle; those are light therapy and imposition of a strict routine. Other methods that have been used successfully are drugs, hypnosis, and, to a certain extent, dietary modification. As most of the people affected by this problem are Foresters, those last three treatment methods are impractical at best.
“Luckily, Captain Helt came up with a solution to my request for full spectrum light panels by pulling the vid screens out of the Weasel’s passenger quarters. He then set up a small signal generator circuit that caused them to display solid full spectrum white light with a slight emphasis on green for fifty minutes every hour with the remaining ten minutes showing short vids of scenes from various human worlds. He has thousands of these and is distributing them all over the Forester towns with his people instructing in their use.”
Jordan’s eyes narrowed as he looked closely at Wills’ face, “Did you shave before coming on watch, Admiral?”
The oddity of that question surprised Wills and CeCe, “Ah . . . no; why?”
“Admiral, the two of you are used to shipboard life but you both are spending a good deal of time outside of the ship; it is beginning to affect your behavior. Admiral, you did not shave, you need a haircut, and I see a small tear on your sleeve. Captain, your uniform is not as crisp as it should be and your hair needs a bit of trimming. Both of you need to polish your shoes.”
Those words made Wills realize something he had unconsciously noticed; Doctor Jordan was immaculately turned out. Everything was fashionably coordinated, clean, and crisp. Jordan also had his remaining hair neatly trimmed, and--damn--he even smelled good.
Jordan waved a finger at both of them, “One of the best ways to maintain psychological balance in these coming months is to maintain a strict routine of daily activity. With a list of things to do and an appropriate time to do them, you will have less time to let the outside situation sink in. The two of you and the other crew members should have the easiest time of it so put in the effort to look sharp. The proper example starts with you and will make my job easier.”
Somewhere in there, Wills had a flashback to the Academy and being braced by an upperclassman for a wrinkle in his shirt. He looked down at his sleeve while he rubbed his chin, “Huh . . . you’re right, of course; thanks for the spanking, Doc.”
Jordan smiled, turned, and energetically walked back down the passageway.
CeCe smiled up at him, “I know you thought the two of them would be a good idea, but . . . careful what you wish for.”
Wills gave her a long suffering look and then headed for his quarters; he could, at least, shave and change his blouse before he went down for cinnamon rolls.
##
“That is the damned ugliest thing I have ever seen.”
Wills had the sour expression to go with the words as he walked around the big, boxy thing that sat at the edge of the game field.
Helt was checking the readings on a screen attached to the side of it, “I build what works; pretty comes after I get someone to buy it.”
He held up his com pad, “Transmitter active.”
CeCe’s voice came back, “Transmission being received and blowing my ears out. They should be able to hear that back on Earth in two hundred years. Closest point in sixty seconds . . . mark.”
“Right, launching now.”
Helt tapped the last key, snapped the screen closed, and stepped back. Three seconds later, it shot straight up. He and Wills watched as brilliant white strobes started flashing at every corner of the box, and kept straining their necks until it abruptly vanished.
“Transmission lost at ninety-eight kilometers.”
Wills lowered his head to face Helt, “At least we seem to have most of the atmosphere.”
Two shadowed figures came toward them out of the bright glow of the Weasel’s lights; Doctors Bernard and Katrin Jordan stopped in front of them.
“Gut mor-r-ning Admir-r-al, Kap-i-tain.”
Katrin Jordan had come from the planet Gervasius. Its primary settlers had a large Germanic element, and she spoke with the guttural, r-rolling, and tapping accent still common there. Bernard was fairly tall, but Katrin
