Generation-13
1256 Words
NAVIGATOR SAYEN LEE straightened her pillow and smoothed the covers on her bunk until they were free of folds and creases. She felt a little queasy. Was she coming down with a stomach virus? Or was it food poisoning? She’d had the Asiatic option for breakfast: congee, pickled vegetables, steamed bun and soy milk. The pickled cabbage had tasted a little strange. She wouldn’t be surprised if the chief steward cut corners when it came to food hygiene, under pressure from the master to save money.
Sitting down at her desk, Sayen said, “Open interface,” and the entire desk surface became a screen filled with numbers and mathematical characters. Sayen was about halfway through the calculations for the next starjump on the Galathea’s schedule. She didn’t actually need to do the calculation herself. The ship’s computer would do it, but she figured it out herself every time anyway, for relaxation. Her result always matched the computer’s.
Her math professor at college had seen her doing a starjump calculation one day, and after looking over her shoulder for a few minutes had asked her what it was. When Sayen explained, the woman laughed and told her not to be ridiculous; that the computation was beyond the ability of a single human being and it would take years to work it out.
Sayen had shrugged and said she’d figured out a few short cuts. The professor had smiled condescendingly and replied, “Yes, of course you have,” before walking away, shaking her head and laughing.
It hadn’t mattered to Sayen then that her professor didn’t believe her, and it didn’t matter now. On the rare occasions she’d been the center of attention, she’d felt uncomfortable. She had no incentive in broadcasting her abilities; she was content to use them as necessary to secure a high-paying job, but no more.
Sayen studied the calculation and worked on it for some time before she realized that she was due on the bridge soon. Closing the screen, she stood and faced a wall of her cabin. “Mirror.” The wall became reflective and displayed an image of a petite woman with short, blonde, razor-cut hair, wearing an immaculate Polestar uniform. She checked her clothes for spots and lint, turning and looking over her shoulder to see the reflection of her back.
Sayen’s stomach churned a little, and she put a hand to it. She would have to pay Dr. Sparks a short visit before her shift started. She still had time if she hurried. She had one last thing to do before leaving her cabin, however: the final stage of her morning routine.
She went into her shower room to wash her hands, but as she passed through the door, she remembered she’d run out of hand sanitizer. Her face fell. What was she going to do? She always washed her hands before going to work. Always. But the last time she’d asked the chief steward for an extra bottle of sanitizer he’d told her that was the last one she was allowed.
There was nothing else she could do, she would just have to skip visiting the doctor and go see the chief steward instead. He had to give her some more sanitizer. He had to.
She stepped out of her cabin in a hurry and walked straight into Lingiari, the copilot. The two collided. Lingiari was barely affected by the impact, but Sayen bounced off the rangy man and nearly fell down. At the same time, Lingiari gave a great sneeze, showering Sayen in a spittle spray.
“Oughh,” she exclaimed, wrinkling her nose. “That’s disgusting.” She wiped her face with her hands and looked down at her uniform.
“Sorry,” said the copilot. “I wasn’t expecting you to pop out like that.”
Sayen backed away, wiping her hair and each hand in turn. “Do you have a cold? Don’t tell me you have a cold.”
“I don’t think so, I just...got a bit...” He gestured behind him in the direction of the shuttle bay. He appeared to be about to say something, then changed his mind. “I don’t think I’ve got a cold.”
“Oughh.” Sayen gave a slight shudder and went around Lingiari, giving him a very wide berth.
The chief steward’s office was on the other side of the ship. She would have to hurry if she wasn’t going to be late for her shift. She quickly turned a corner, but stopped. Harrington was coming toward her. C.S.O. Harrington, who was supposed to be confined to her cabin. The security officer was racing down the corridor.
“What are you—” asked Sayen.
“Shhh,” hissed Harrington as she passed by, “don’t tell anyone. Please don’t, and I promise if you ever need protecting from aliens, I’ll be right there.”
“Oh, I...okay,” she said to the security officer’s retreating figure.
Today was turning out to be odd. But she didn’t have time to figure out what was going on. She had to get to the chief steward. Fifteen minutes later, panting, she pressed his door chime.
“Who is it?” came the man’s voice over the intercom.
“Sayen Lee.”
There was a sigh of exasperation. “What is it this time? Disinfectant? Polish? Sanitizer?”
“That’s it. I need some more sanitizer. I know you—”
“No. I’ve already told you. No more. Use the UV box like everyone else. Sanitizer is redundant and outdated. That’s why we—”
“But I really need it. If no one else—”
“No.”
“But—”
“No.”
The light on the intercom went out. The chief steward had turned it off.
Panic rose in Sayen’s throat. She had to wash her hands. A disaster would happen if she didn’t. What kind of disaster, she didn’t know, but it would be something really bad.
Sayen went back the way she’d come. Where could she get some hand sanitizer? The communal restrooms didn’t have any. They only had UV boxes. And what good were they? On one level she knew they were the most efficient way of killing germs, but she didn’t feel right using them; she didn’t feel hygienic. She needed that reassurance of spreading sanitizer all over her hands and the tingle of it evaporating.
The corridors were filling with crew members on their way to their workstations. Maybe one of them could help? There had to be someone else on board who still liked to use hand sanitizer. She stopped and scanned the faces as they passed. At last, she saw someone who might be able to help—Sayen had introduced herself only the day before as the woman had seemed lonely—though now she didn’t seem to have noticed her.
“Hi. It’s Margret, right?” asked Sayen as the geo-phys scientist had almost passed by. When she didn’t stop, Sayen grabbed her arm. Margret turned slowly, as if she were in a trance or deep in thought.
“Margret, I’m Sayen, remember?” she said when the woman still didn’t seem to recognize her. “I was wondering if you have any hand sanitizer?”
“Hand sanitizer,” echoed Margret.
“Yes, do you have any?”
“No, I don’t have hand sanitizer.”
Sayen peered into Margret’s face. Her expression was blank. “Are you feeling okay?”
Margret didn’t reply, but began to walk away. Sayen followed her. “Are you sure you don’t have any? Could you check? Hey, I think your cabin’s this way,” she said as Margret took a wrong turn into the storage section. Something was definitely wrong with her. She would have to tell Dr. Sparks. After grabbing the woman’s hand, she led her the right way.
They arrived at Margret’s cabin. As soon as they were through the door, Sayen went into the shower room. Her heart leapt. There it was, on the side of the basin: a nearly full bottle.
Chapter Eleven
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- Writer
