Forbidden the Stars Part 12

"I'd like to run some bio-diagnostic tests on you, a little more involved than the electroencephalograph I hooked up to you last night, if that's all right?"

Alex shrugged, intent on his repast.

The first mate's expression turned to one of confusion, and she let out a small harrumph as she inspected the EEG machine.

"What is it?" I pressed.

Before answering, Helen initiated the EEG interface and began typing in a sequence of function keys, bringing up differing schematics and charts on the digital screen.

"Nothing," Helen answered finally, her voice tinged with concern. "There's absolutely nothing on the EEG!"

"What do you mean? It was on a few minutes ago! I see lights!"

"Oh, the machine is on, but it might as well be hooked up to the wall. It recorded nothing all night long." She looked at the cords attaching it to Alex, like a collection of umbilicals. "Perhaps I hooked it up wrong."

"Then how did it alert you that Alex had arisen?"

"Well, either there's something wrong with the connections, or- Alex, did you play with this EEG this morning?"

He turned from his eggs easy over and shook his head.

"Never touched it."

"It's not working. If there were data, it's gone now."

Shrugging as if this came as no surprise, he said, "I could have told you that."

Both Helen and I stopped looking at the EEG interface monitor, and stared hard at Alex.

"What do you mean by that?"

"The EEG isn't recording anything. Isn't that obvious?"

I put my hands on my hips. "Then how did you know how long you were sleeping, down to the last second?"

"I wasn't sleeping," he replied. "I had been in the room for fifteen hours, thirty-two minutes, and seventeen seconds when you arrived."

"What?"

That he knew that information indicated either he was obsessive about time, and kept meticulous track on a chronometer; or that the marking of time came to him easily, like second nature. I'd heard of people who could tell you the time of day down to the nearest minute, without looking at a chronometer, or even looking at the position of the sun. It was like a person who has an internal time clock, and wakes every day at the same time. Perhaps Alex was one such person.

Helen ignored the question of time, and grabbed her stethoscope, dragging a mobile bio-a.n.a.lysis unit from one corner. "What do you mean, you weren't sleeping? Insomnia?"

Alex shrugged. "I guess."

"Didn't you get any sleep at all?"

"No."

Helen brought the bio-a.n.a.lysis unit over and switched it on. The indicator light and the screen showed that the instrument was operational, but when Helen pa.s.sed the vital receptors over Alex, nothing showed up on the monitor.

"That's odd."

Quickly, she reset the unit, and pa.s.sed the receptor over me. My heart rate, respiration rate, body temperature, diastolic and systolic blood pressure measurements appeared alongside a brain wave chart and a micro-display chart of my major organs and their function rates. It was similar to an EEG, but had many advanced functions, and could diagnose most every ailment known. All of my readings were at a hundred percent of normal, and my microorganism levels showed satisfactory. I was the picture of health.

Helen reset the unit and pa.s.sed the receptor over Alex, and again got no reading.

"What the h.e.l.l?" the first mate cursed. She turned and regarded Alex. Bringing the stethoscope to her ears, she indicated to the boy that she wanted to listen to his heart rate.

"Normal," she reported. "For some reason, the machine isn't working, neither is the EEG."

I hovered over the two. "Was the EEG working last night when you hooked it up?"

"Yes. That's the funniest part of this whole thing. There isn't even a record of the first few minutes after I hooked it up to Alex. I'm sure I checked it before I left."

Turning to Alex, Justine spoke in her most authoritative voice. "Now, Alex. Are you lying? Did you play with these machines? They are expensive pieces of equipment, and are not toys to be played with."

Alex, having finished his breakfast, eased back on the cot and regarded me with an impa.s.sive look that sent a s.h.i.+ver down my spine. "I told you; I never touched them."

"I don't know what kind of game you're playing, but-"

Before I could finish my statement, Alex glanced over at the bio-a.n.a.lysis machine. There was a beep, and the unit suddenly flared to life.

Helen dashed over to the monitor. "Readings for one Alex Manez are normal. DNA patterns match; there's no sign of foul play. What's the meaning of this?" she asked, her usual patience starting to run thin.

Alex, giving a knowing c.o.c.k of his head and a twinge of a smile, glanced at the bio-a.n.a.lysis machine again. The readings began to fluctuate past the normal spectrum. His body temperature went up ten degrees, his heart rate increased a hundred beats per minute, his respiration rate dropped to one breath per hour, his blood pressure was all over the place, and the unit began to diagnose Alex with every disease known to humankind.

"What the h.e.l.l?" I cried.

Again, Alex glanced at the machine, and all the readings disappeared. The unit flatlined.

"What are you doing?" Helen asked, her eyes wide and her face registering pure disbelief.

Again, Alex shrugged. "Nothing much." And he would respond to no more questions on the subject.

Captain's Journal - August 23, 2090 The TAHU and all CSE equipment have been loaded aboard the Orcus 1 Orcus 1, and we are preparing to lift off the asteroid and begin our journey home. I have scheduled the flight to begin first thing tomorrow morning, at 05:59 am EST. It should take us about one hundred and forty days to arrive at Luna Station; the sun's enormous gravitational pull will boost our velocity by more than thirty kilometers per second over our average velocity coming to Pluto.

Our young ward, Alex, displays highly antisocial behavior, though Helen a.s.sures me that his reaction to his predicament and the loss of his parents is not uncommon. She refuses to speculate on the events of yesterday morning.

I, for one, will be watching Alex closely.

Once we are in flight, descending toward earth at three-hundred-and-twenty-four kilometers per second, I will transmit the first EPS report to Earth; I am not certain whether to include my thoughts on Alex yet, or wait until I have more information.

Captain's Journal - August 30, 2090 It has been nine days since Alex's rescue, and eight since the boy revealed some kind of electropathic kinetic ability with the EEG and the bio-a.n.a.lysis units; since then, he has not shown that the ability remains, or that the events of August Twenty-Second had ever occurred. Medical examinations provoke no unusual results, and, as far as the technical readouts are concerned, Alex is perfectly healthy.

Upon questioning, he denies any knowledge that the anomalies with the EEG and bio-a.n.a.lysis unit took place; although his stoic behavior from that day persists. He refuses to partic.i.p.ate in any discussion or recreation with the science team or command crew, and only comes out of his makes.h.i.+ft compartment in the medical bay for meal times.

Both Helen and I agreed not to include our observations in our report, and to maintain a clandestine vigilance over young Alex, watching should he repeat his feats. Even when alone, he does not experiment with his abilities; all medical bay monitors show steady, normal outputs. There have been no glitches in any other electronic equipment on board the s.h.i.+p.

Captain's Journal - September 14, 2090 Although the past two weeks have been spent a.n.a.lyzing the TAHU and its contents, we have found no evidence that proves one way or another what exactly transpired in the asteroid belt.

What caused Macklin's Rock to achieve light travel? Why did it cease its flight when it entered the orbital field of Pluto and Charon. Obviously, the termination of the rock's journey has something to do with the Dis Pater artifact.

But what? It remains a mystery.

We received another EPS from NASA informing us that they have created a joint-venture partners.h.i.+p between USA, Inc. and Canada, Corp. to study Element X, Dis Pater, and the possibility of repeating light speed travel.

Quantum Resources, Inc. has confirmed the directors.h.i.+p to the former vice-president of the s.p.a.ce Mining Division of Canada Corp's CSE, the reputed Michael Sanderson, whom I have never met.

With him at the helm, the joint company has aggressively collected, collated, and doc.u.mented all aspects of the events concerning their charter. All reports we send to NASA (the EPS informed us) will be copied and forwarded to Quantum Resources's headquarters in Toronto, Canada.

We have instructions, upon arrival at Luna Station, to hand over the TAHU, all materials found within the unit, and a full report on all our finds to Quantum Resources, Inc. officials who will meet us at the station. There will also be a representative there who will take charge of young Alex and escort him back to Canada Corp.

So far, Alex has shown no inclination to repeat his remarkable feats of electropathic kinetics, nor has he acknowledged that he ever has, or still retains, that ability. I have decided not to include any observation in our reports to NASA and Quantum Resources, Inc. yet.

Once we have returned to NASA Mission Control, I will hand over this journal to Director William Tuttle, and rely on his discretion and decision whether to make issue of Alex, or report my observations to Quantum Resources, Inc. There is no malice in my decision; I merely do not wish upon Alex any more scientific and psychological scrutiny than necessary. Besides, I am not sure if my observations fall under Quantum Resources' charter.

Captain's Journal - October 29, 2090 In the medical bay, as at every science station on board the Orcus 1 Orcus 1, there are cameras installed to doc.u.ment all experiments for future study. By no means were these cameras designed for security purposes, so it was with some trepidation that I programmed the computer to turn the cameras in the medical bay on, and leave them record the room overnight.

This move was prompted by a revelation brought to my by First Mate Helen Buchanan earlier yesterday. Catching me alone for a few moments, she indicated to me her concerns.

"I don't think Alex has slept a wink since coming on board the s.h.i.+p," she said.

"What?"

"Do you remember him saying that he didn't sleep that first night?"

"Yes."

"At first, I thought it was just nerves, a mild case of insomnia. What with all he'd been through, it's not that unremarkable. After a few days when he didn't complain about it, and since he looked rested enough, it never crossed my mind again."

"And what leads you to believe he's been awake for, what, two months?"

Helen mumbled. "It's not like me, but I left the bioa.n.a.lysis unit on last night in the medical bay. When I went in this morning, it had stored a twelve-hour record of the only living being inside the room, Alex, in its memory banks. When Alex stepped out for breakfast, I accessed the data, and it proves conclusively that, although he remained inactive for a few hours, he never achieved Alpha sleep, let alone REM sleep. After the few hours, there was an absence of readings, indicating, perhaps, that he had left the room. Shortly before five o'clock this morning, he returned to the room and waited until I arrived.

"I was curious what he'd been up to all night, and so I did a quick investigation."

My mind racing in twelve different directions, wondering what all this meant, I prompted her to continue: "What did you find out?"

Helen bowed her head a moment before continuing. "He accessed our main computer data banks. Although he managed to hide the ident.i.ty of any data files he used or stored, he may not have known that every time a file or doc.u.ment is opened, the file usage meter is tripped in the log cas.e.m.e.nt. During the past two months, Alex has been accessing the main computer every night. I know it's been him, since I discretely questioned the science team, and no one has any knowledge of using the machines after hours except on a few rare occasions."

"Thank you, Helen. Don't approach Alex. He'll probably deny it. Let me handle this."

Her relief was palpable. "Just thought you should know. I'll be off to perform my routine sensor cache interactions."

Captain's Journal - October 30, 2090 Helen was correct. Alex does not sleep.

When I replayed the camera recording late this morning, I was shocked to see that at around eight o'clock, when everyone had finished their evening meal and sought refuge either in their own quarters or in the recreation cubicle, Alex, as was his custom, repaired to the medical bay.

To my great shock, he lay down on the cot, and stared directly at the camera, situated in the corner of the small bay.

For fifteen minutes, I watched as he stared right at me. I had to remember this was just a recording.

I fast-forwarded, but the image on screen did not vary.

Hours went by, right up until six o'clock this morning, Alex did not move from his spot on the cot, nor did his gaze waver from the camera.

At precisely six o'clock, when the s.h.i.+p's chime indicated it was time to rise and that breakfast was being prepared by the AI in the dining facility, Alex stood up from his cot, took a step or two toward the camera, and spoke.

"Have a good morning, Captain," he said to the camera, and left the room.

I recall that, over breakfast, Alex had been smiling at me furtively, although at the time I had paid no heed. He knew ahead of time that I was going to access the camera recordings.

There is something not right with young Alex Manez.

I don't think he was this way before the Macklin's Rock incident. He has changed in some fundamental way that I cannot put my finger on. Although he has not shown malice toward the crew, the s.h.i.+p, or me, I am starting to cultivate a fear of young boy.

Captain's Journal - December 25, 2090 It is Christmas Day, and Helen and I spelled each other at the helm so we could enjoy the onboard festivities. The entire journey has been long, and we can all imagine ourselves in the comfort of our own homes, for the first time in more than a year. Especially now that we've begun our aggressive braking maneuvers, since we have pa.s.sed inside the orbit of Jupiter and are fast approaching the asteroid belt.

It is unnerving to think that the outward trip took Alex and his asteroid approximately five hours; it has taken us four months to cover two-thirds of the distance. This boggles the imagination. To think that travel at light speed could be within our grasp! A trip to Proxima Centauri would take a little over four years, instead of five thousand at present technological levels. I wonder what this advancement will mean in terms of the socio-economic impact on our fellow humans.

Every hour, we apply a retrorocket boost, dropping our velocity by a kilometer per second. At current speeds of over three hundred kilometers per second, the Orcus 1 Orcus 1 would simply shoot past Luna in the blink of an eye. Over the next two weeks, we will have decreased our velocity to less than a hundred kilometers per second. would simply shoot past Luna in the blink of an eye. Over the next two weeks, we will have decreased our velocity to less than a hundred kilometers per second.

It bothers me that Alex has not partic.i.p.ated even in our Christmas celebration. He has not overcome his antisocial tendencies, and has kept himself in the medical bay during waking hours. At night, he continues to access our main computer files.

Shortly after discovering his nocturnal forays, I enlisted the help of Dale Powers, a whiz at all things technical, and developed a watchdog program to list by name all files accessed on Orcus 1 Orcus 1. I have determined that Alex has never accessed the same information file twice. At this time, he has read close to eighty-nine percent of the information stored on board Orcus 1 Orcus 1, including the Science Team's data storage arrays. By the time we land on Luna, he will have accessed every single file contained in the data banks aboard the s.h.i.+p.

I estimate that if he has retained even a fraction of what he has read, then he will already know more about outer s.p.a.ce and science than any three members of the Science Team.

I asked him what he was looking for. Expecting him to act shocked that we knew he was reading our files, it was my turn to be surprised when he replied. "It's pretty boring here otherwise."

"You've accessed technical readouts, schematics, hard science files, and encrypted files. Surely, you don't understand them! You're only ten-years old!"

For the first time in any of our discussions, he was forthright: "At first, it was difficult to understand them, yes. But after a while, I figured it out."

"Figured it out! More than half of that information I couldn't solve with both hands, a flashlight, and a map. Most people take one look at some of NASA's basic manuals and develop a permanent headache. I had to take basic calculitical telemetronics twice before I could understand just the fundamentals."