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CHAPTER 9:
Less than Superhuman



USSF Office of Scientific Integration

@OSIGenBoatright

Colonel Glenn Shepard has recovered from injuries sustained during a training mission on the Moon. He will be leading one of our medical advancement and integration teams.

—Major General Richard Boatwright, USSF/OSI

George J @SpaceFan

Finally.

ChirpChat, June 2041


From the rehab facility in San Antonio, Glenn had to spend two weeks in Houston for in-processing as a civilian consultant to NASA and the Mars Exploration Consortium. Space Force still refused to reverse Glenn’s retirement and restore him to active duty, but MarsX had been willing to let him work alongside their personnel. There was one small problem, in that he would have to undergo the full one-year astronaut candidate training program.

After in-processing, he would have a few weeks before reporting to the training center on Hawaii. Glenn was looking forward to it despite the fact that repeating the year-long training program felt like he was starting over as an astronaut recruit. On the other hand, Hawaiian volcanos were starkly beautiful, as well as excellent training sites.

He had another check-up back in San Antonio before final release to report to the training center. Glenn met with Marty to cover one more important detail. Glenn wanted to use his free month to pay a visit to Aunt Sally and Uncle Hoop. One problem, though, was that he was in Texas, and they were in Virginia. He would fly on a military jet to Hawaii, but as a retiree that option wasn’t available for a personal trip. He and Marty were uncertain if he should fly in commercial airplanes; after all, it wasn’t if he could walk through the security systems at an airport. As modern and unobtrusive as they’d become, he would certainly stand out on any scans. Glenn wanted to drive, but his driver’s license had expired while he was on the Moon, and he’d had neither time nor opportunity to renew it yet.

There had been several inquiries at higher levels of the military and government as to whether he could—or even should —recertify in skills such as driving or flying. It grated on Glenn’s nerves. It was almost as if he was being punished for being rebuilt with artificial parts. He’d protested to Nik and Marty that it wasn’t fair; this didn’t happen to people who were sick and recovered. Marty countered that it was exactly what happened to amputees with vehicle licenses.

The real insult was that there was talk of suspending his medical certifications. A message from the Virginia Medical Examination Board had arrived that morning. It argued that he was too long out of medical practice, he’d suffered severe trauma, and implied that there were concerns now that he was “almost as much machine as he was human.” They hadn’t taken action yet, and Marty promised that General Boatright would look into it.

It was still an insult, though.

Glenn didn’t see any of his “replacement parts” as problems. He could certainly pass a vision test as part of the driving examination. If anybody wanted to test his coordination, well, the past year of rehabilitation had certainly demonstrated that he had mastered his new bionic prosthetics. He could operate anything on a vehicle, and with self-driving cars, that was unlikely to be a problem. The only real problem was that auto-drive was not going to fit what Glenn had in mind.

Glenn wanted a road trip.

“Look, it’s a pretty drive, especially through the Carolinas. Hills, winding roads, lots of green. I need to get out and feel that I’m alive.” Glenn was trying to convince Marty to let him drive alone. It would be nearly fifteen hundred miles to his aunt and uncle’s house.

“Absolutely not,” Marty replied. “We haven’t put this much work into you to have a glitch occur and you drive off the side of road. I mean, I really don’t think that your trust fund, the insurance companies, DARPA, the Navy, the Healthcare Advanced Research Projects Institute, and every other government agency that has had a hand in your rebuild, is going to settle for doing it a second time.”

“Nothing is going to happen. I’m just driving across the country. I’ll rent an auto-drive car and let it drive me most of the way. It’s just that there are certain places that I love to drive.” Glenn was adamant.

This was supposed to be his freedom drive.

In years past, returning prisoners of war would receive a freedom celebration upon their return from captivity. Some got a freedom flight; others got a parade. It didn’t matter what the event was; it was a celebration that you were free of captivity, and your own person. This drive was important to Glenn. He needed this.

“No.”

“Look, I have to go out into society. I have to go out into the world. What am I supposed to do, stay in this rehab hospital the rest of my life?”

“No, but you’ll be out in public during training.”

“Secured behind guarded gates or isolated on top of Mauna Kea? Nope. Not the same.”

“But what if something happens?”

“That’s the point, Marty. We need to show that I can handle it.”

“I know you can handle it.”

“Sure, you do. You are the one responsible for this superman shell I’m in. Clearly Space Force doesn’t believe, and I’m not sure NASA and MarsX are totally convinced. We need to show them.”

“Okay, okay, if it means that much to you. We won’t send you in a hospital van or ambulance, but you really need to take someone else with you.”

“Okay, I’ll take Nik.”

“Nik? Why Nik?”

“Well to start with, he has a wheelchair equipped van. Even if the state is unwilling to certify me as a fully able driver, they can’t deny me a handicap license. I’ll take the test in a mobility chair, use hand operated controls, voice operated controls, or anything they want. Visual? Auditory? I still have one normal eye and ear. I can do everything with one hand just like any other handicapped driver. If they will accept that, then I can get a provisional license which will allow me to drive Nik’s van. For that matter, Nik himself can drive if need be—but he won’t have to. This is my trip.”

“Will he do it?”

“I talked it over with him already. He’s perfectly willing to.”

“So, what you’re telling me is that this is what you wanted all along. Was the rest of this argument just a way to soften me up for the real options?”

“No. Well, yes. I knew you would be reluctant to sign off on the full package, so we figured to give you an option you could accept.”

“We?”

“Ah, Nik and I.”

“Uh huh. As I suspected. Just how long have you two been planning this?”

“About a month.”

“A month. And you’re taking my psychiatrist away for how long?”

Your psychiatrist? Certainly not. My friend will be with me for a week or so. Just long enough to get me to Virginia and stay long enough to sample Aunt Sally’s home cooking.”

“Your friend . . . I saw that one coming. You two are naturals. I made the right choice in hiring him for this job, but he’s probably ruined now.”

“Nope, not Nik. He cares for his patients, and the whole rehab unit adores him . . . docs and nurses, too!”

Marty sniffed. “Well, I never . . . Yes, you’re right. He really is perfect for the job, and he and I both know it. Alright, approved. Just make sure you both stay in one piece. Don’t add to the population, don’t subtract from the population, don’t end up in jail—and if you do, I’m not answering my comm.”


“I’m not sure I like the looks of those clouds back there, Shep. It’s pretty dark.”

“At least it’s in our rearview mirror, Nik. I heard the forecast—there’s some nasty storms behind us, and they’re headed east. Since we’re headed east, we should still be able to outrun it.”

“Okay, that’s fine as long as we keep ahead of the storm. What happens when we turn north to get to Mount Airy? Should we call Mike and Cathy to tell them we’re going to stop for the night and let the storms pass?”

“We should be okay. The dark clouds haven’t gotten any closer in the past two hours. We only have to head north for seventy miles. It might be close, but we should be okay.”

“I’m just glad you’re driving, Shep. I don’t know this part of the country as well as you do.”

“I thought you did a fellowship in Florida. You never came up here for a glimpse of the mountains?”

“I was deep in the peninsula, not the panhandle. I never really got up into Alabama, Georgia . . . the Carolinas. You grew up in Virginia, so you know this region better than I do. Aside from two years in Florida, I’ve never been further east than the Mississippi.”

“Yeah, yeah. I hear you. Y’know, I never did hear the full story of how you transitioned from that pediatric job you had before, into military rehab.”

“Well, frankly, there’s not a whole lot of difference.” Glenn glanced to the side and Nik grinned at him. He balled up a napkin from their last stop and tossed it in Nik’s direction. “My previous department wanted a program working with seriously ill kids. I built it. We treated kids with cancer, heart defects, epilepsy, depression, anxiety, you name it. I heard that some bigwig in the medical center praised the department chair for his ‘innovative program.’ He got a deanship; I got more hours and lousy pay.”

“Okay, you’ve told me that part, but how did you get hooked up with Marty Spruce at SAMMC?”

“Oh, that’s easy. I treated Marty’s niece while she was being treated for leukemia.”

“Oh, so Marty figured you could make the transition from pediatrics to injured soldiers?”

“You have to admit, the sense of humor is about the same.”

“You’re not wrong there.” Shepard took note of the road signs for the upcoming exit. “Okay, here’s our turnoff heading north. You’re right, it’s looking darker back there, but it’s still clear ahead and above us. We should be able to make it.”

“Drive on, Shep. Into—or at least, ahead of—the storm!”

“Aye, aye, cap’n!”


“Getting darker, Shep.”

“We’ve only got another thirty miles to go. Tell me about these two friends of yours we’re supposed to meet in Mount Airy? How do you know Mike and Cathy?”

“I actually met Cathy via an old bulletin board chat site. Her husband Mike’s a writer who called me up for information he used in a book. He called it being a ‘subject matter expert.’ We’ve since been to a few conferences together.”

“Ah. Cathy’s a former girlfriend.”

“Bite your tongue. On the other hand, we did have to deal with rumors. A few mutual—well, they used to be friends—tried to spread word that we were dating. We were and are just good friends. That’s all.”

“Okay, okay, I won’t push you on girlfriends. I know you swore off them but I’m surprised you and Nurse Cuddly . . .”

“Bite your tongue. She’s way too bubbly for me.”

“What about that other nurse, Sheila? She’s cute.”

“Don’t get me started; she’s out of my league. There’s no way I’m even going to be able to work up enough courage to ask her out.”

“Ha, psychiatrist, heal thyself.”

“Yeah, I could say the same about you, flight surgeon. Now what is it we were talking about? Oh yes, you were telling me about Yvette.”

“Touché. Same here, I’d rather not talk about her.”

“Not even to your therapist?”

“I thought you got enough of this when you were squirting me with water every time I had a flashback.”

“That was treatment, this is therapy.”

“You wouldn’t let me have my own water pistol!”

“Hey! Do you know how much paperwork I had to go through to get that authorized?” Nik turned at Glenn’s chuckle and shook a finger at his friend. “I’m serious! I had to get special dispensation to classify it as a therapeutic device. You were a patient, not a doctor. You didn’t have admitting and treatment privileges there!”

“Okay, okay! I surrender. Yvette’s a part of my past, and I’d rather leave it at that.” He glanced over at Nik. “. . . and you’re not letting me off. So sure, we were serious, even talking about getting engaged. It was while we were still in residency, but I had the flight trauma fellowships coming up, and she made it very clear that she while she wanted to go to space, she wasn’t staying in the service. I planned to stay in, which meant I’d get transferred all over the place. I was willing to stick it out, despite the separations. I argued that with only one of us in the Force, it would make it easier; we wouldn’t have to worry about fighting for mutual assignments. We could start a family, have kids.”

“And?”

“‘Not her dream,’ she said. She told me she was serious about going to space, though, and she’d had an elective hysterectomy. No risk of unplanned pregnancy or genetic complications that way. So, no family, just her career. I took that as meaning that I wasn’t that important to her either. If we’d stayed together, it probably would’ve meant the end of my dream.”

“And there’s been nobody else since then?”

“I’ve dated. After all, there’s a certain appeal to being both a doctor and an astronaut. You might not believe this, but there’s . . . well, the best word I can think of . . . is groupies. There was this one encounter . . . it was one of those science fiction conventions you like. Down in Georgia—lots of science stuff and an honest to God ‘Space Track.’ They wanted an astronaut and a doctor to talk about space medicine. They got two-in-one with me courtesy of the Public Affairs Office. They put me on a couple of panels, and those rooms were packed. I never would have believed a science fiction convention drew those kinds of crowds.”

“Yup, I know which one you mean. I’ve never been to it, but there’s one in California that’s even bigger.”

“Right. So, they put me on panels to talk about stuff like bone loss, why blood doesn’t pool in zero gravity, that sort of thing. I got invited to a couple of parties in the evenings—authors, celebrities, artists, fans—folks like that. The convention assigned me a handler to make sure I got to things on time and to help me out of awkward encounters. He was a bit slow this one time—the host was out on the balcony smoking a cigar and just happened to mention that I was somewhere in the suite. BAM! Next thing I know this girl plowed through a mass of bodies trying to get to me. She practically hung all over me.”

“Nice! You had a true fan!”

“I was never more uncomfortable in my life. Fortunately, my handler worked security for the con when he wasn’t shepherding me.”

Nik giggled. “Shepherding Shepard and throwing himself in front of exploding bimbos. I love it, man.”

“Yeah . . . no. He managed to deflect her by telling her I had an appointment with one of the directors of the convention. He and the additional security he called still had to practically peel her off of me to get me clear. As I said, I was never more uncomfortable in my life.”

“Oh, the sacrifices you’ve made. Beautiful women throwing themselves at you and you brush them off . . . excuse me, peel them off.”

“No, I’m not like that. Yes, I dated Yvette. We were good together and I started thinking it was going to be forever, but in the end we were incompatible. She called it quits before I did. I’ve dated a few women since then, but I vowed to stay away from coworkers, astronauts, or doctors. I do like intelligent girls and to take my time getting to know them, but the training schedules and astronaut duties didn’t leave a lot of social time.”

“So, nothing in how many years?”

“You know that answer. There’s been nobody for the past two-and-a-half years, given that I was on the Moon for six months prior to the accident.”

“Except for Nurse Cuddly.”

“That . . . was a disaster. Did you know she called me a couple times? I think she really wanted to test out her therapist skills as much as to see if anything else was bionically enhanced.”

“Did you take her up on it?”

“One date—if you can call it that. She came over to Houston last week and we got together. It was supposed to be just coffee, but she clearly had other plans.”

“And? Don’t leave me in suspense.”

“It was too much of a therapist-patient situation. I had . . . difficulties. She tried. Oh, how she tried. Look, she’s cute, and I know she’d love to keep trying with a long-distance relationship. I’ve had those, and learned they don’t work if you can’t see each other regularly. I still haven’t given up on Mars, or the Moon, and even a quarter million miles is a bit too far. Plus, I’ll be essentially in isolation for the next year. Now, if there were someone really special, someone who knew me better than I knew myself—and I’d come to know her the same way—I’d be willing to give it a try. She’d have to be awfully special, though, Nik, awfully special.”

“I got you, Shep. I feel the same way. I mean who wants a broken-down old head shrinker who spends his day with unruly soldiers dealing with PTA.”

“There’s what’s-her-name.”

“Put it out of your mind, Shep. Give me time. I think you’re more likely to find somebody before I am.”

“Hey, the wind’s picked up. How much further do we have?”

“This is our exit. Mount Airy. Five miles that-a-way.”

“Let’s get in there and get off the road.”

Glenn pulled the van into a parking spot on Main Street just ahead of the gust front that preceded the storm. Where there had once been clouds to the west, and blue skies above and to the east, there were now angry dark clouds everywhere. The wind was blowing dirt, leaves, and small bits of litter in swirls down the street.

Mike and Cathy lived half an hour away, and were driving in to meet them in the town. Fortunately, they were coming from the east, and should not be in the storm, yet. Glenn and Nik were debating whether to go inside and wait in the café, when they heard the tornado sirens.

As with any small town, the fire station was just about a block away and the sirens could be heard throughout in the city center. In addition, both their wristcomms sounded an alert; they could hear the message repeated up and down the street. A tornado had been spotted just west of town, moving east.

“Well, Nik, I guess we’re going into the café. Let’s see if they’ve got a shelter or we just find an interior hallway. We certainly can’t stay out here.”

“You got it. I think I’d better use my wheelchair, although . . . bring the crutches just in case.”

Once Glenn helped Nik into the wheelchair, he offered to push him across the street. Nik refused. “I’ve got this,” he said, and propelled himself across the street and into the café.

Glenn looked in the back of the van for the crutches. His eyes lit on the components of his exo-frame. He’d get the new one in Hawaii, so he’d only brought the leg braces and the components used as a wheelchair when needed. He reached for the leg braces, thinking that a little bit of extra structural support might be handy if they were going into an underground storm shelter. At that moment, the sirens went off again. Glenn closed the van door and headed inside with the braces in his hand, not realizing he’d left the crutches in the van.

The café didn’t have a storm shelter, but the kitchen was at a slightly lower level than the dining area, and behind that was an oversized pantry and storage area with no windows. There were four employees and two customers in addition to Glenn and Nik, so they were all invited to take shelter in the pantry. There was a bit of an issue getting Nik’s wheelchair down to the kitchen; there was a ramp for deliveries, but it was outside.

“Hey, Shep, hand me my crutches, I’ll walk down and you can lift the chair.”

“Um, oops. Sorry, Nik. I grabbed the wrong thing.” Glenn held up the leg braces.

“Dammit, Shep, you were supposed to bring mine!”

“Yeah, I’m sorry. Here, I’ll help you get down the steps. Just hang onto the railing and I’ll grab your chair.”

“Yeah, okay, that’ll do. There’s no sense in going back outside, the rain has started.” At that moment, lightning flashed and the thunder came almost immediately. “. . . aaaand the lightning, too. Don’t worry, I’ll manage.”

As the eight people got settled into the pantry, the main storm hit. The wind was loud, and raindrops struck the building with a force that could be heard all the way through the brick walls. There was a nearly continuous rumble of thunder punctuated by sharp cracks from very close strikes. Above it all was a rushing sound like a freight train. It seemed like a cliché but Nik knew the sound very well from his residency in Kansas.

He looked wide-eyed at Glenn. “That’s the tornado.”

At that moment, the lights went out; for several minutes, the only illumination was the near constant flash of lightning. The whole building shook and they could hear cooking utensils rattling in the kitchen. It was too loud for conversation, but they could hear the crackle of breaking glass from somewhere out in the dining area. Their ears popped from pressure decrease, and several people reacted with surprised shouts. The very fabric of the building creaked and groaned with the stress of the tornado’s wind. The pressure difference and sound meant that it passed either directly overhead, or quite nearby.

The noise and shaking were over in less than five minutes. They could still hear rain, but the thunder was decreased, and took longer to sound after each lightning flash. Once the interval between flash and boom increased to more than ten seconds, they knew that the lightning strikes were at least two miles away.

They no longer heard the heavy wind.

They no longer heard the freight train sounds.

The tornado had passed.

What they did hear was car alarms, sirens . . . and screams.


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