Chapter 4 – Where we catch up with Papa Bantan and Doctor Proctor, and Darwin’s Theory is Twisted and Bastardized in order to help the captain pick members of the landing team.

Captain Haigh followed the sounds of reggae music bouncing across the vast Mix Control chamber. The echoes made it difficult to pinpoint their exact position, but after a few minutes of wandering among the giant fuel containers, he spotted the unmistakable column of smoke that marked the Chief Engineer’s location. As he wandered among the massive cylinders, a touch of dread crept along the back of his mind. He’d been the captain of the Explorer for the better part of ten years, as reckoned by the clock located on the nightstand next to his rack, and despite that time, he knew frighteningly little about how the ship worked. Naturally, he’d taken the tour; he knew that the cylinders were fuel storage containers, each containing an equal amount of some radioactive gas, the name of which escaped him, which was required to operate the Heisenburg Drive. Bantan had taken great pains to explain exactly what the fuel was made of and how it was pushed across the surface of some impossibly dense material which generated enough energy to create a gravity-flux wave, and so on, and so on. Each time he’d tried listening to the explanation, Captain Haigh had found other things to think about, like how a man could speak English, and with a combination of highly technical jargon and a very thick Jamaican accent, be completely unintelligible, and how great the grilled cheese sandwiches were in the little diner just outside the mooring spindles on AG 457 Dolly’s the place was called, yes, it was definitely called Dolly’s, and that perhaps it was basil, because there was certainly a hint of basil, but not overpowering, just enough to complement the delicate balance of 7 cheeses and a flaky, yet crunchy sourdough bread that opened on the first bite like the door to a party, allowing all the subtle, intricate flavor gradations in the cheese and herbs to swirl together into a mesmerizing aria of delicious, crunchy, dairy-filled bliss, and that it was even better with two thinly-sliced pieces of prosciutto gracing the center, and washed down with dark chocolate milk with a hint of maple in the aftertaste. None of these thoughts stopped the captain from nodding frequently and saying ‘Ah. I see” whenever it sounded appropriate.

Papa Bantan smiled and stood up. It was always strange to see the tall, barrel-chested Chief Engineer, his face hidden deep within a thick black beard, his dreadlocked hair spilling down his shoulders, lounging on a rolling office chair next to the closest approximation to a fully sentient weasel that the human race had ever managed to produce.

“Ah, Captain, Nize to see you down heah. De fuel levels are a little low-“

“Ah, I see,” said Captain Haigh. We’re going to have to address that, but we have a small obstacle to overcome first.”

Doctor Proctor, who had been frantically waving his hands as if he were trying to get airborne, finally realized the futility and sat down, hoping that the Captain didn’t actually see the cloud of smoke that drifted like a halo around their heads, or smell the cloying aroma of the particular dried herbs that they just happened to be burning, for therapeutic reasons, of course. Proctor seized upon the Captain’s subtle hint, eyeing him suspiciously.

“How small?” the doctor asked.

“Oh, just a little wrinkle. We seem to be orbiting a planet.”

“A planet? I taut we wah goin’ to da stehshun, Alfa 109, ovah by dah Pattee bess.”

The captain nodded.

“Yeah, apparently there’s was some small miscalculation in the jump.”

“That sounds bad,” said Doctor Proctor, twisting something very nonchalantly beneath his left foot.

“Well, the good news is that there’s a wrecked Aramis colony ship down there, and there’s a good chance we can get what need out of it.”

“You’d need a shuttle and a landing team for that,” said the Doctor.

“Yeah, good luck with that,” said Bantan.

“Luck’s got nothing to do with it,” said the captain. “I plan on assigning the duty. I just need a little something to make them a little more agreeable.”

“Natural Selection,” the Doctor said, a sly smile curving across his sharp features. Well, it turns out that I have just the thing. Used in conjunction with oxysteromitophenosol, it’s a very effective anesthesia, numbing and relaxing the body without compromising pulmonary function. However, taken by itself, it sends the patient into a very relaxed state. It’s very popular as a par-“

Reggae music filled in the sudden quiet. The doctor looked at his feet, his mouth slightly open, and then the words found their way out.

“Par-particularly effective – antianxiety medicine…no side effects, quickly metabolized.”

“And you have it right here?” said the captain.

“Oh, no, I don’t have it with me. I used up my stash…ionary kit…I used up the supply in my stationary kit during an emergency trauma incident before the last jump. But I do have a supply in the dispensary. I can get it for you. Shall I meet you there in, say twenty minutes?”

“Actually, I’ll need you to meet me at the galley,” said Captain Haigh.

The Explorer had no less than nine galleys, but the doctor knew which one the captain was referring to. Crew Quarters Mess Deck was the busiest galley on the ship, seving meals 24 hours a day. Since it was open all the time, the Crew Quarters galley mess crew changed shifts frequently enough that someone had removed the door to the galley proper so that the shift changes could be accomplished a little more easily. While this did improve efficiency as far as shift changes went, it also enabled unscrupulous and enterprising crewmen to pilfer food and utensils with impunity.

Captain Haigh arrived at the galley about twenty minutes later, after another harrowing ride in the Core Conveyor and brief stop at storage bay six, where they kept the fresh produce. When Doctor Proctor arrived, he found the captain sitting on a crate of fresh strawberries.

“You know,” said the doctor fishing a small vial of clear liquid from the pocket of his white lab coat, “this is quite an underhanded way to assign people to landing team duty. You’re the captain. You can simply order them.”

“I could,” said the captain, accepting the proffered vial. He removed a basket of strawberries from the crate and began painting the outside of each berry with liquid from the vial. “But this way, I get to teach two lessons for the price of one. I’ve found that people learn best from real-life experience. If you tell them, they might remember, but if you show them…”

“Not that way, you won’t. By the time anyone eats those strawberries, the…additive…will be rendered inert by exposure to the air. You’ll have to inject them.”

“The crew?”

“No, the strawberries. Watch.”

Doctor Proctor fished a hypodermic needle out of his pocket and inserted it into the vial. He pulled the plunger back slightly, pulling a small amount of the drug into the barrel.

“You don’t even need to aspirate it,” he said, “because you’re only injecting a strawberry. All it takes is 10 milliliters or so, and they’ll be putty in your hands.”

“Nice work, Doctor. Go ahead and inject another eleven of them. And do it fast, before the shift change. Then we can come back in…how long will it take before the…additive…takes effect?”

“It takes a little longer when its absorbed through the stomach lining,” said the doctor. I’d give them at least a half hour before choosing your volunteers. I have an extra needle, if you’d like to assist.”

“You go ahead,” said the captain. “Seeing both of us sitting here will probably draw suspicion.”

“And seeing me with a needle and some strawberries won’t?”

“Do it where they won’t see you,” said the captain. Take the basket, go into a quiet passageway; God knows there are enough of them around, and finish them up. So I’ll have my crew, and maybe I’ll have a little less thievery from this galley.”

“I never took you for a devious man,” said the Doctor.

“I have my moments,” said the Captain. “Make sure those strawberries are spread out, too. I don’t want someone to O.D. on them.”

“Certainly, Captain.”

Captain Haigh walked contentedly back to the Command Deck.