2221:028

Lira Granger sat up groggily. A bird was chirping in her room, and her mind tried to reconcile that with the fact that she was a hundred meters below the surface of the moon.

The door chime! I changed it last week. Shouldn’t have. I’m more the type who needs a roaring lion, not a chirp.

She stood, slipped her feet into mag slippers, and headed for the door. Her mouth was set in an unattractive line and her eyes, though still heavy with sleep, were building a fire inside in preparation for blasting the person leaning on her chime.

If it’s Mills, I’m really going to give it to him this time.

Her door slid back. A question left her mouth, almost cutting her lips on the way out: “What do you want?”

A man and a woman in the green uniform of Base Security stood there, as unperturbed by her outburst as the chiseled rock around them in the tunnel.

“Dr. Lira Granger?” said the man.

“Yes,” she answered. “Medical emergency?”

“No, Doctor. It’s time for Stranded. You have one minute to dress.” Lira’s eyes opened wide.

So this is how it starts!

She mumbled something and reached to close her door. The woman quickly stepped in. “I’m required to see that you don’t bring any supplies with you, Doctor,” she said. “Fifty seconds.”

Lira stripped off her sleep shirt and slippers, picked up the clean underwear she’d left on the corner of her bed the night before, and launched herself toward her small dresser. She twisted in mid-air and tugged on her panties, landed on both feet, caught the drawer handle to keep from bouncing up again, and slipped on her bra, which was a simple tube of firm elastic she’d taken to wearing. Mills had driven her to it.

“That mid-air stuff wasn’t bad,” said the woman from security. She glanced at her wrist. “Thirty-five seconds. You’ll go like that if you don’t get dressed.”

Rumor had it that some people went into Stranded naked. Now she knew why. Lira yanked a neatly folded duty uniform from a dresser and shoved her legs into the pants, pulled the tunic over her head.

“Can I use the toilet?” Lira said, noticing the urge.

“No time. Shoes might be helpful.”

Lira looked down at her bare feet and frowned. There were boots in her closet with soft, warm linings. She bent her knees and pushed off, ricocheting off the padded ceiling of her room and landing once again near her closet. She tucked her feet into the boots and the tops automatically sealed around her calves.

“Time,” the woman said.

“Ready.” All traces of sleepiness were gone, replaced by caution tinged with excitement. This was it, the third and final test. She’d passed Shuttle and MedTech. Fourteen days from now, she’d have a ticket to the stars.

Think positive. How bad could it be?

~*~*~*~

Minutes later Lira found herself in Sickbay’s intake, a rarely used place designed for rapid triage in case of mass casualties. Light pooled in the center, leaving the corners of the room in darkness. The room was empty except for herself, the two from security, and Captain Dev Zohra.

She’d met the captain at a couple of social events she’d felt obligated to attend, and found him to be thoroughly professional but approachable. She ventured a smile.

“I see you got dressed,” he said, and shook her hand firmly. “Up on the exam table, please.”

In these circumstances, approachability was nil.

She maneuvered herself onto one of several exam tables in the room, and restraints automatically snaked around her waist and ankles. A MedTech appeared from the shadows. It was Ulan Harding, a competent but unimaginative tech who was a true Lunie, having been born at Hoyle Base.

“Dr. Granger, good to see you,” Harding said. “I need to set you up with a remote monitor, and you’ll be ready to go.”

Lira held still as Harding injected the small device under the skin of her upper arm. The monitor would report her medical condition to someone, somewhere.

It’s nice to know they’re not planning to let me die.

“There,” Harding said, patting the spot where the monitor’d gone under Lira’s skin. “If your stats drop low enough, you’ll be considered dead, and you’ll be picked up. If you want to be picked up voluntarily, squeeze the monitor hard. Like this.”

Harding pinched hard enough to bring tears welling up in Lira’s eyes.

“Voluntary pickup is the same as being dead.”

Left unsaid was the fact that no one who “died” in Stranded would make it onto the Star Venture’s roster.

“Good luck, Lira,” Captain Zohra said.

Harding leaned over her. Lira felt an injector gun press against the side of her neck, and then she felt nothing.

Next Chapter: Chapter Three ~ Thirst