Descending Road - COST-PERFORMANCE by Dana W. Paxson

COST-PERFORMANCE

0 NC, Day 0, Hour 1050

“Elena Phom, Miriam Parker. Please report to Command Forward, immediately.” Miriam, zooming out of the clinic, nearly banged into Elena.

“What’s this about?” Miriam asked.

“I don’t know.” They kicked forward.

Commander Arnell shook her head of short brown hair, and beckoned Miriam and Elena into her cramped workspace, which glowed with flat, clustered screens of data, a jungle of geometric leaves, vined with patched and ripped cables that snaked out of holes in the walls and ceiling. Reporting ship condition and problem status, autovoices muttered and crooned in the air around the three women.

The commander spoke. “I can’t spare anyone else. Thanks to this orbiting thing we met, the lander fuel has to be stored and then reloaded before launch. But we’ve still got six other doctors, and the clinic and the em-ward are clear for now.

“Suits are aft, in the access zone. You won’t get to use the utility pods because the lander work needs them all. We’ve got less than two days, then we’ve got to get back in the landing window. I’ll brief you just before you leave.”

“Shouldn’t an officer or an engineer go?” Elena asked. “We’re not trained for this.”

Arnell swiveled a datascreen close, hiding her face from the other women. Her voice came flat, “We can’t spare the engineers. And there are exactly two officers left of the original thirty-two. Just Chandra Chatham and me.”

“Two? Aren’t there four?” In Miriam‘s shock, the words escaped before she could stop them.

Arnell said, “There were four yesterday. Dr. Phom, when we arrived, you reported the problem: the cryopreservatives seem to amplify mental instability.” She stopped, took a long breath. “Officers Vince Carlino and Jane Su both died three hours ago, together. Suffocated.”

“What about the antidepressants? We’ve been using them. Why didn’t they use them?”

“They did. Remember your shelf life projections? We took at least three major radiation hits on the way here. Most of the stored chemicals that were life-related are worthless, down to less than two percent viable, and we have nobody to piece together the synthesis processes we need. Have you really been checking on your patients, Doctor?” Arnell‘s voice stabbed.

The displays winkled and muttered for a long moment; Miriam felt old and shrunken and helpless. Arnell looked past them both, and said, enunciating each word carefully and slowly, “Sorry for that. God damn wonderful Hau Ren and their tried-and-true cost-performance way with human life. On your way.”

Story List	SURPRISE ME	Author Page
USER SURVEY	PUZZLE ME	MAKE ELM MARK

HOVER Lucida Bright BARE	HOVER Lucida Bright FULL	HOVER Palatino Linotype BARE
HOVER Palatino Linotype FULL	HOVER Times New Roman BARE	HOVER Times New Roman FULL
PAD Arial BARE	PAD Arial FULL	PAD Lucida Bright BARE
PAD Lucida Bright FULL	PAD Times New Roman BARE	PAD Times New Roman FULL


	COST-PERFORMANCE 0 NC, Day 0, Hour 1050 “Elena Phom, Miriam Parker. Please report to Command Forward, immediately.” Miriam, zooming out of the clinic, nearly banged into Elena. “What’s this about?” Miriam asked. “I don’t know.” They kicked forward. Commander Arnell shook her head of short brown hair, and beckoned Miriam and Elena into her cramped workspace, which glowed with flat, clustered screens of data, a jungle of geometric leaves, vined with patched and ripped cables that snaked out of holes in the walls and ceiling. Reporting ship condition and problem status, autovoices muttered and crooned in the air around the three women. The commander spoke. “I can’t spare anyone else. Thanks to this orbiting thing we met, the lander fuel has to be stored and then reloaded before launch. But we’ve still got six other doctors, and the clinic and the em-ward are clear for now. “Suits are aft, in the access zone. You won’t get to use the utility pods because the lander work needs them all. We’ve got less than two days, then we’ve got to get back in the landing window. I’ll brief you just before you leave.” “Shouldn’t an officer or an engineer go?” Elena asked. “We’re not trained for this.” Arnell swiveled a datascreen close, hiding her face from the other women. Her voice came flat, “We can’t spare the engineers. And there are exactly two officers left of the original thirty-two. Just Chandra Chatham and me.” “Two? Aren’t there four?” In Miriam‘s shock, the words escaped before she could stop them. Arnell said, “There were four yesterday. Dr. Phom, when we arrived, you reported the problem: the cryopreservatives seem to amplify mental instability.” She stopped, took a long breath. “Officers Vince Carlino and Jane Su both died three hours ago, together. Suffocated.” “What about the antidepressants? We’ve been using them. Why didn’t they use them?” “They did. Remember your shelf life projections? We took at least three major radiation hits on the way here. Most of the stored chemicals that were life-related are worthless, down to less than two percent viable, and we have nobody to piece together the synthesis processes we need. Have you really been checking on your patients, Doctor?” Arnell‘s voice stabbed. The displays winkled and muttered for a long moment; Miriam felt old and shrunken and helpless. Arnell looked past them both, and said, enunciating each word carefully and slowly, “Sorry for that. God damn wonderful Hau Ren and their tried-and-true cost-performance way with human life. On your way.”