The Iris (Gravity, Space, and Time: Book 1) by Patkós Csaba - HTML preview

Chapter 28 - Reunited

Date: June 23, 2856

"Welcome back, Captain!" Sava Potaski greeted him with a cheerful voice as he entered the brightly lit dining area. Escorted by Dr. Ala, Peterson was quickly met with the enthusiastic chatter of his crew. The doctor excused herself and left.

"The food here is amazing! I bet you're hungry," Lieutenant Grigorescu added. "I know I was when I first arrived. I was the first, so I had to figure out the technology."

She gestured towards sleek devices embedded in the opposite wall. The space itself was filled with dining tables and comfortable couches along the perimeter.

"Their technology is light years ahead of ours," Ensign Turmal chimed in. "And their food processors, or whatever they call them, can make anything from Earth. The menu is endless!"

"They're careful not to give us too much, though," Dr. Jovier remarked. "Lucky for us, I suppose. Otherwise, they might have to treat us for overeating on top of everything else!"

"What did you talk about with your doctor, Captain?" Corporal Hari inquired.

With his fellow bridge crew's help, Peterson ordered some food. It arrived quickly and was incredible – like a Michelin-starred meal on Earth. Once he'd settled in, he shared the details of his discussion with Dr. Ala with his team.

"What about you guys?" Peterson asked, feeling relaxed after one of the most delicious meals of his life. "Aside from what I already know, what did you talk about with your doctors?"

"Well, not during the therapy, but I have some information," Lieutenant Grigorescu chimed in. She looked down, still grappling with the incredible fact that death wasn't the end in this place. "Everyone in the ready room was badly hurt or died. But I wasn't. I managed to strap into my seat on the bridge, and that area fared much better than the rest of the ship, including your ready room, Captain. When everything stopped shaking, I had a broken hand and probably a few fractured ribs, but I was conscious and could move. I floated to the nearest observation lounge and looked outside. We're in a strange place. No stars, no blackness of space – it's like we're floating in a luminous purple soup. I could see different shapes, like waves or currents, with varying shades of purple. Other than that, nothing. No solid objects, no stars or planets. Then I went back to the bridge and tried to restart the external cameras, but there was no power. Soon after, I felt a smooth motion. The whole ship was like... sailing on the ocean. We were pulled... or pushed... I couldn't tell, but we were certainly moving with smooth accelerations and decelerations, changes in direction. We were guided... here, I guess."

Everyone around the table nodded, having likely heard this incredible story a few times as new bridge crew members were healed and sent over.

"I see some of our bridge crew are still missing," Peterson remarked.

"Yes," Dr. Jovier replied. "Collins is still a difficult case, the doctors told us, but we don't know anything else. They also assured us that Chief Ratiu is well, but she was sent to her engineering crew instead of here."

"Are we prisoners?" Peterson asked, pondering the situation. "It wouldn't make much sense, especially since these aliens, the Gados, don't seem to be the ones who were hunting us."

"We are..." Dr. Jouvier hesitated, "... guests with limited access. This area provides comfortable accommodations, food, and places for cleaning up and other needs. We have individual rooms with amazingly comfortable beds. We're just not allowed to leave. But I don't think we're prisoners in the traditional sense."

"Hmmm," Peterson considered. "I guess we would offer a similar level of care to aliens on our ships or stations – medical treatment, food, accommodations suited to their needs. We wouldn't just let them roam freely. That's understandable."

"Understandable, yes, but I'm not sure how comfortable I am with it," Ensign Turmal grumbled. "It feels like a very luxurious cage."

"Perhaps it's for our own safety," Lieutenant Grigorescu offered, a hint of uncertainty in her voice. "After all, we have no clue where we are or what's out there."

The table fell silent as everyone pondered the implications of their circumstances.

"Dr. Jovier, did they tell you anything about the brain imprints and templates? They said I was basically too stupid to understand," Peterson questioned bluntly.

"Absolutely, Captain," Dr. Jovier replied with a hint of amusement. "It was one of the main topics I discussed with my medic."

Peterson's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "How so? They refused to tell me anything about the revival process."

"Of course they did. Your reactions could have been catastrophic. And I suspect they saw in me a better conversationalist, given my scientific background." He paused, gazing thoughtfully at the far wall for a moment. Then, with a deep breath, he continued. "I believe they wanted me to simplify it for you. They can repair any part of our body. Let's say you need a new heart. They'll create one based on your DNA, perfectly aged, and seamlessly accepted by your body. But what they cannot replicate is the heart you had previously. It changed and formed based on your unique life experiences – it wasn't perfect. Yet, they give you a perfect replacement.

Your brain isn't expecting that. So, they need to adjust your brain patterns to align with your new organs."

"That makes sense," Peterson admitted. "They could have told me that."

"But..." Dr. Jovier continued, pausing to organize his thoughts and find the best way to explain it. "When your brain is physically damaged... things become more complicated." He paused again, emphasizing the gravity of the situation. "They claim that with as little as 5% of your brain intact, they can rebuild it and revive you.

However, you may not be exactly... well... you." His words hung heavy in the air.

"Your brain, like other parts of your body, changes and creates neural connections based on your life experiences. Those connections are what define you." He scanned the room, making eye contact with each person. "With at least half your brain intact, they scan the healthy half to get a pattern of the neural connections.

Then, using sophisticated computer simulations, they can infer... estimate... the connections in the damaged part." Shock and fear were evident on everyone's faces.

"How would anyone know if they fail? How could we distinguish between real life experiences, real memories, and ones imprinted after such a... revival?" Lieutenant Grigorescu asked, voicing the concern on everyone's minds.

"They wouldn't," Dr. Jovier stated bluntly. "That's why we're here."

"How so? Why didn't you tell us before?" Ensign Turmal protested.

"All of us, except the captain, had our brains intact. Some suffered deaths as we understand it – lack of oxygen, organ damage, blood loss – but our brains were not physically harmed."

"And..." Peterson prompted, sensing everyone's eyes on him after being singled out.

"And... I believe we're here to confirm that you are you. To make sure you behave as you normally would, to ask questions about your past that we know, to see if your memories are accurate. Only after we confirm these things will we get our audience with the leaders of these aliens on this... station. Not just the doctors."

A wave of anxiety washed over Peterson, stronger than usual and harder to contain.

Yet, with grim determination, he focused his thoughts: "One thing is certain. Either my emotions are more intense or my ability to control them has diminished. I'll need to train myself, to regain control. There will not be a fourth revival if I can't manage this now."

Life took on a simple rhythm within their confined quarters. Days were spent in conversation, meals, and occasional games to pass the time. Each day, their three doctors – Ala, Dodo, and the enigmatic "Dr. John," who steadfastly guarded his real name despite their playful attempts to uncover it – paid them a visit. The bridge crew even turned revealing the doctor's true name into a lighthearted competition, earning a few good laughs in the process.

The week's only tense moment came on the third day.

"You really need to stop second-guessing yourself, Captain," Dr. Jovier said to Peterson. "It isn't helping. We can all see that you're not fully yourself when you do that."

"But..." Peterson began to protest.

"But... I'm not a psychologist, not even a medical doctor. I'm an astrophysicist specializing in gravitational navigation," Dr. Jovier interrupted, rank momentarily forgotten. "And even I can see that you're trying to calculate how you should behave every second of the day."

"How do I know if I'm saying and doing the right things?" Peterson asked, a note of defeat lacing his voice.

"You don't," Dr. Jovier replied, taking a deep breath. "And that's the point. You don't, but we do. Perhaps none of us are your closest friends. We've known each other for a short time, but in the past three months, we've come to... understand... each other.

We worked as a team, faced a lot together. We almost died, and some of us actually did and were revived. It's a lot to process." He paused, observing Peterson's reaction. "We don't know your deepest secrets or your family. They would be the best judges of whether you're fully 'you.' But for now, we're all you have. Don't try to impress us. We know what you're going through and expect that you're not completely the Captain Peterson of a month ago." He let the silence linger before continuing, "We've changed as well. Perhaps our brains weren't rewired, but we faced our own traumas. That's normal, a part of life. Your change may have a different origin, but it's normal too."

"What if..." Peterson began, his voice trailing off.

"What if you're not the captain we knew?" Dr. Jovier finished for him. "I believe that's not what matters. What matters to us, and I suspect to these doctors, is having everyone as healed as possible. They don't want the exact same Captain Peterson back, and neither do we. It would be unsettling to see you act like nothing changed since we ended up here, or before. We want to see you as you are now. And then?

Then, we can decide whether to accept the new you or find another solution. So far, I feel like you're still the same person, just afraid. This fear makes you second-guess

yourself, leading to hesitation in your words and actions. That's definitely not the captain we know or want leading us."

Peterson sighed heavily, realizing the truth in Jovier's words. There was little he could intentionally do. His fate was out of his hands.

"Trust these doctors, Captain. Trust them and trust yourself. Just be you."

Peterson nodded and drifted off to sleep. In the next four days, he grew more relaxed. Participating in discussions and activities helped him focus on the present.

Slowly, he began to find his footing as the Captain Peterson they all knew.

The eighth day brought a surprise. When the doors opened for their routine medical visit, the doctors were accompanied by the last missing member of the bridge crew: Commander Collins. It was immediately evident to Peterson that Collins' recovery wasn't recent.

"Commander?" Peterson questioned, a hint of suspicion lingering in his voice. The others, seemingly oblivious to the subtle details that caught Peterson's eye, erupted in happy cheers at the sight of their colleague. Collins smiled warmly, genuinely happy to see them.

"Let me tell you a story," Collins began. "I was probably the luckiest crew member aboard the Iris when we crossed that 4.5 GU threshold. I was already strapped into my crash couch when the walls began to buckle. The entire ship shook so violently that I thought we'd break apart. Then, the ceiling collapsed, nearly crushing me. In the dim light, I saw some of you being injured." He looked pointedly at several bridge crew members, Peterson included. "But the debris stopped... inches from me, forming a protective cocoon around my couch. It was pitch black except for the light from my console. There was no danger of being hit by the flying debris that took out others." Collins paused, nodding towards Grigorescu. "I lost consciousness and got a mild concussion – a few bruises, but otherwise, I was unharmed. The Gados found

me quickly and kept me under observation for 24 hours. They fixed my concussion and bruises with an injection, and I was back to normal within 30 minutes. Then, they scanned everyone's brains. After the first day, they told me about the Captain's condition. They also believed me when I told them I was the next in command, considering your state."

Collins' eyes held a hint of shame as he glanced at each person. "I need to apologize to everyone here. This whole setup – the accommodations, everything –

was suggested by me to these extraordinary alien doctors. And you all endured weeks of this for the sake of Captain Peterson's recovery. Medically, you could have left long ago. But I insisted on ensuring the captain could be healed, and he is, thanks to all of you."

The bridge crew's confused expressions slowly melted into understanding.

"Did you know about this, Doctor?" Peterson asked Dr. Jovier.

"I didn't, not directly. I had some hints, though, from fragments of information the doctors gave me. It seems I guessed fairly accurately."

"It wasn't coincidence," Collins added. "I spent decades working on clandestine projects. I instructed the doctors to let Dr. Jovier pick up pieces of information. I assumed it would help him put together a plausible story to share with you, Captain, when the time was right. It seems my assessment was correct. Welcome back, everyone. You all deserve a full debriefing."