May 14, 2035
Earth Departure Plus 31 Days
15:30 Universal Time
Galley
Hi McPherson’s normal pleasant grin was gone. He stood staring at the chessboard, scratching at his beard and scowling.
“Something’s not right. Your rook wasn’t there when I left.”
Looking up at him from his chair at the galley table, Mikhail Prokhorov smiled innocently. “Are you saying I cheated?”
McPherson didn’t reply. He simply stood there, slightly stooped over the table, staring intently at the board. When he’d left the table for one of the ship’s three toilets he had memorized the positions of the pieces on the board. He was certain that Prokhorov’s white rook was not where it had been when he’d left.
Sitting down slowly, McPherson said, “I’m not saying you cheated, Mikhail, but something’s wrong. I don’t claim to have a photographic memory, but I’m reasonably good at keeping up with the pieces during a game and I know your rook wasn’t there when I left. I had my next move planned and now it’ll be impossible.” Looking into Prokhorov’s face, McPherson suggested, “Are you sure you didn’t accidentally bump the table or something?”
Still smiling, Prokhorov said, “I did not bump the table and I most certainly did not cheat.”
“I say you did,” McPherson said, more in sorrow than in anger. “I can’t believe you’d cheat at a game of chess! What’s the point of it?”
Prokhorov pointed a finger at McPherson’s chest. “I don’t need to cheat, and I certainly don’t need to cheat to beat a player as poor as you are. I think you owe me an apology.”
Catherine Clermont and Taki Nomura were watching them from the refrigerator/freezer and microwave oven on the other side of the galley. Clermont felt particularly disturbed by the rising heat of their exchange.
“Gentlemen,” she said, “there is no need to become angry. I am sure it’s just a misunderstanding. And after all, it is only a game.”
McPherson got up from the table. “It’s only a game, sure. But we’ve got to be able to trust each other and right now I don’t think I feel like trusting or believing anything about this guy.”
“It is only a game,” Clermont repeated, a little more strongly. “Now get your testosterone in check, Hi. Walk away and get over it.”
McPherson’s face was reddening, but not from anger. He felt embarrassed. This isn’t the way to impress Catherine, he told himself. Gotta cool down. Show her I’m a better man than he is. Cool down.
He backed away from the table, turned and headed for the hatch. Over his shoulder he said, “I know what I saw, but Catherine’s right: it’s only a game.”
Prokhorov, still grinning, scooped up the chess pieces and put them back into their box. Then he got to his feet, made a little bow to the two women, and sauntered out of the galley.
Clermont turned to Nomura. “Taki, I’m going to talk with Hi. I hate to see him so upset.”
Nomura replied absently, “Sure. You do that. Hi could use some TLC right now.”
The French geologist hurried out of the galley, leaving Nomura standing by the microwave, alone with her thoughts.
Mikhail did move the rook while Hi was out of the room, she knew. I saw him. And he saw me watching him. He even winked at me!
Is this his idea of a joke? Some elaborate Russian prank? Is he sore at Hi for some reason?
As the ship’s psychologist I’ve got to look into this. We’re going to be living together for a long time, and we can’t afford to have personality clashes. I’ll have to talk to Mikhail, see what’s motivating him. And Hi, get him to relax more.
Then she wondered, Should I tell Bee about this? He’s the commander, he ought to know if something’s afoot that could endanger the crew’s morale. But he’s got enough to think about. Maybe I ought to keep this to myself until I’ve talked with Mikhail and Hi. Separately, of course. Those two shouldn’t be in the same room for a while.
* * *
Two days later, Taki Nomura approached the hatch of the command center, after making certain that Bee Benson would be alone in there.
“Commander Benson, may I have a moment of your time?” Nomura asked, before stepping through the hatch.
Benson was in his chair, looking perfectly at ease among the dials and screens that showed the performance of all the Arrow’s systems.
“Sure, Taki, come on in.” He jabbed a thumb at the empty seat beside him. “And don’t be so formal. We’re all team members, shipmates.”
Nomura slid into the right-hand seat. “I know. But sometimes it’s difficult for me to overcome a lifetime’s training.”
Benson nodded understandingly. But he said, “Taki, I’m not a samurai. We’ve known each other for more than two years now and we’ve got another two to go.”
“Yes,” she said. “Of course.”
“So what’s on your mind?”
Feeling more than a little uncomfortable despite Benson’s reassurance, Nomura began, “I feel I have to make a report about the crew’s psychological condition.”
Benson’s brows hiked up. “We’ve got problems? Already?”
“Not problems, really. But there are some troubling indicators that might be pointing to problems in the future.”
“Like what?”
“Well, for instance, this morning at breakfast Jinny Gonzalez got very upset when her food was decanted. She actually cursed at it and threw it directly into the recycle slot.”
Benson said, “Go on.”
“Two days ago McPherson and Prokhorov had an incident over a chess game and—”
“An incident?”
“Prokhorov moved one of the chess pieces while Hi was off in the lavatory. When Hi accused him of it, Mikhail lied to his face. Hi stormed off and Mikhail laughed about it.”
“How do you know that Mikhail—”
“I was there. I saw him do it. He cheated, and then denied it all to Hi’s face.”
“And Hi got ticked off about it.”
“Catherine calmed him down afterward. I think she could talk that man into walking out through the airlock without a spacesuit on.” Nomura smiled at the thought. “She might even go with him.”
Benson’s right eyebrow rose. “They’re both geologists,” Benson said. “They should work closely together. They have a lot in common.”
“It’s more than geology.”
“You think so?”
“I’m a psychologist, Bee, so yes, I think so. Catherine likes Hi, a lot. And I think he likes her, too, but he doesn’t know what to do about it.”
“Maybe I should talk to him about that.”
With a slight shrug, Taki said, “Maybe. But I think Hi would just shut down tighter than a clam. Sometimes men are like little boys.”
“So Hi and Catherine are hooking up? That’s hard to believe. He’s a top-flight geologist, but Catherine’s way out of his league, romantically.”
“Love is blind.”
“Have you asked Mikhail why he cheated at the chess game?” Benson asked, changing the topic.
Forcing herself not to bite her lip, Nomura answered, “Not yet. I wanted to talk to you about it first.”
“Okay. You’ve talked to me. Now talk to Mikhail.”
“I will.”
“Anything else?”
Nomura closed her eyes and drew in a deep breath.
“Well?” Benson prodded.
“Please forgive me for bringing it up, but yesterday you and Mr. Connover had that shouting match. I don’t know what the nature of the disagreement was, but the whole crew knows you and Ted were yelling at each other.”
Benson nodded. “It was over nothing, really. I apologized to Ted and we shook hands. Lots of sound and fury, signifying nothing.”
Nomura felt far from reassured.
“Frankly, Taki, what you’re talking about sounds suspiciously to me like a small group of people locked in an isolation chamber for two years, separated from instant death in vacuum by a few centimeters of aluminum, all trying to keep their cool and get along together until the isolation is over. We were warned this would happen.”
“Yes, that is true,” Nomura replied, “but I wasn’t expecting it to reach this level until we’d been underway or at least two or three months.”
Benson rubbed his temple with his right hand, a gesture Nomura knew he did when he was trying to solve a problem or was troubled by something.
Finally he asked, “We aren’t heading toward anything like the Mir incident, are we?”
“I don’t think so,” she said. “I hope not.”
Nomura understood Benson’s concern. She shared it. The effects of being isolated in space for long durations could be devastating. That’s why crews of space stations were rotated regularly: to avoid the mental health issues that inevitably arise when a small group of people are confined together for an extended period of time. It was rumored, but never officially confirmed, that back in the 1980s, personal relations aboard the old Russian space station Mir became so tense that one of the crew members actually stabbed another.
Peering intently at her, Benson asked, “Taki, how are you doing?”
“Me? I’m okay. I don’t really mind the physical closeness of the ship. It kind of reminds me of home. But, well, the smells are starting to bother me.”
“Smells?” Benson broke into a grin. “Are people not bathing or something?”
“It’s not that. It’s just the natural smell of people who are closely confined. Not body odor. Not a bad smell. Just a, well, too-close-together smell.”
“Huh.”
“Please remember that I’m from a culture where people often bathe more than once a day. My father used to come home from his office for lunch and take a quick bath before returning to work for the afternoon. It’s just something I notice.”
Benson couldn’t think of a quip and probably wouldn’t have said it to Taki even if he had. She wasn’t the type to react happily to his humor. That was one of the reasons he had been picked to command this mission—he could read people fairly well.
“Thanks for giving me a heads-up, Taki,” he said. “And please keep me informed. Do you intend to report this all to mission control and the crew’s personal physicians?”
Each member of the crew had his or her own personal physician back on Earth who knew their medical history in detail. Each personal physician had overseen the crew member’s training schedule, conducted regular physical exams, and knew the results of every mental health test they’d been given as they trained for the mission. If anyone on board started showing unusual symptoms, mental or physical, their personal physician would be consulted for advice.
“I should,” Nomura answered. “That’s what mission protocol calls for.”
Benson shook his head. “I wish you wouldn’t. What happens among us should stay among us—unless it’s really something big.”
Nomura frowned, conflicted. She’d known this sort of situation might arise. Now it had, and she had a choice to make.
“We’re a family, Taki. We handle our problems among ourselves.”
For now, I agree she thought.
Nodding, “Yes. Of course.” But she added silently, Until the problems become big enough to explode.