happened—death of a crewmember—or members. If the captain died, Choi would act as pilot. If Choi died, Connelly was next in line. Thankfully, autopilot could handle just about everything, but the scenario worked in multiple situations. If Connelly died, Robert would take over, then Willard and so on. Death would not end their mission. It would simply reorganize their duties. Too much money was being spent to call it quits for one death or even two, maybe even three. It was their least favorite subject to discuss, but all understood the protocol's necessity.
Connelly felt a chill at the back of her neck as she took in the latest in a slew of technological advances that the world didn't even know existed. She, Willard, Robert and Peterson were standing in a small rounded room with metallic walls and no windows. At the center of the room was a chair that appeared to be molded right into the floor, like a smooth, silver throne.
To either side of the chair stood Harris and Choi. Between them and in front of the chair was a small cage containing a guinea pig. The guinea pig squeaked loudly and Willard tensed visibly.
Robert smiled at Willard. "Afraid of the little pig?"
"I was attacked by one of those things when I was a kid," Willard said. "Nearly bit off my finger…It squeaked like that the whole time."
Harris cleared his throat, asking for their attention. "What you're seeing right now is top secret, brand new technology. Without it, this trip wouldn't be possible."
Willard raised his hand. "Um, it looks like a chair. Mankind has had chairs for like, what, ten thousand years?"
"You've never seen a chair like this," Harris said. "Trust me."
Harris nodded at Choi, who walked around to the front of the chair and knelt down next to the guinea pig cage. She opened the small door, reached in and picked up the squealing rodent. She held the guinea pig up and said, "This is Lucy."
"You named the pig?" Robert said and then looked at Connelly, "They named the pig."
Choi moved back to the side of the chair, still holding Lucy. "This is an impact chair. They are designed to aid the human body in resisting the effects of high speed travel. That includes extreme acceleration that would normally kill a man and massive deceleration that would be equally as damaging."
"Sorry to be the continuous voice of doubt," Willard said, "but how does a chair do all that?"
"Watch." Choi held Lucy out over the chair and placed her on the seat. Lucy sat still for a moment, her tiny chest rising and falling quickly. Then the chair began to move. "Lucy has been through this several times, so she knows not to run or panic," Choi said.
The seat of the chair became like liquid, oozing toward and around Lucy's body. It covered her back, torso and eventually head, until all that was left was a lump in the chair's seat—a lump that was breathing.
Willard's mouth dropped open. "The chair ate Lucy."
"Lucy's just fine," Harris said.
Peterson stepped forward. "I'm sorry. I don't understand. How is it breathing in there?"
"Breathing tubes inserted through the nose," Choi explained. "You'll receive nutrients intravenously. Microshocks will keep your muscles from atrophying. A gel will be secreted between you and the liquid metal, creating a buffer that will minimize the effects of intense acceleration and deceleration on your body."
"You mean the effects of a series of nuclear explosions," Willard muttered.
Harris spoke over him. "On board the Surveyor, each of you will have your own quarters. The rooms on board are very similar to what we have here in the training facility. You'll have your own bed, your own private bathroom and an impact chair. But unlike the bed and bath, you will not be using these chairs while we are in orbit. They are only to be used in transit…for the duration of transit."
Peterson raised his eyebrows. "We're going to be in the impact chairs for three months?"
Harris nodded. "Three months, two days and three hours.
Connelly felt a chill at the back of her neck as she took in the latest in a slew of technological advances that the world didn't even know existed. She, Willard, Robert and Peterson were standing in a small rounded room with metallic walls and no windows. At the center of the room was a chair that appeared to be molded right into the floor, like a smooth, silver throne.
To either side of the chair stood Harris and Choi. Between them and in front of the chair was a small cage containing a guinea pig. The guinea pig squeaked loudly and Willard tensed visibly.
Robert smiled at Willard. "Afraid of the little pig?"
"I was attacked by one of those things when I was a kid," Willard said. "Nearly bit off my finger…It squeaked like that the whole time."
Harris cleared his throat, asking for their attention. "What you're seeing right now is top secret, brand new technology. Without it, this trip wouldn't be possible."
Willard raised his hand. "Um, it looks like a chair. Mankind has had chairs for like, what, ten thousand years?"
"You've never seen a chair like this," Harris said. "Trust me."
Harris nodded at Choi, who walked around to the front of the chair and knelt down next to the guinea pig cage. She opened the small door, reached in and picked up the squealing rodent. She held the guinea pig up and said, "This is Lucy."
"You named the pig?" Robert said and then looked at Connelly, "They named the pig."
Choi moved back to the side of the chair, still holding Lucy. "This is an impact chair. They are designed to aid the human body in resisting the effects of high speed travel. That includes extreme acceleration that would normally kill a man and massive deceleration that would be equally as damaging."
"Sorry to be the continuous voice of doubt," Willard said, "but how does a chair do all that?"
"Watch." Choi held Lucy out over the chair and placed her on the seat. Lucy sat still for a moment, her tiny chest rising and falling quickly. Then the chair began to move. "Lucy has been through this several times, so she knows not to run or panic," Choi said.
The seat of the chair became like liquid, oozing toward and around Lucy's body. It covered her back, torso and eventually head, until all that was left was a lump in the chair's seat—a lump that was breathing.
Willard's mouth dropped open. "The chair ate Lucy."
"Lucy's just fine," Harris said.
Peterson stepped forward. "I'm sorry. I don't understand. How is it breathing in there?"
"Breathing tubes inserted through the nose," Choi explained. "You'll receive nutrients intravenously. Microshocks will keep your muscles from atrophying. A gel will be secreted between you and the liquid metal, creating a buffer that will minimize the effects of intense acceleration and deceleration on your body."
"You mean the effects of a series of nuclear explosions," Willard muttered.
Harris spoke over him. "On board the Surveyor, each of you will have your own quarters. The rooms on board are very similar to what we have here in the training facility. You'll have your own bed, your own private bathroom and an impact chair. But unlike the bed and bath, you will not be using these chairs while we are in orbit. They are only to be used in transit…for the duration of transit."
Peterson raised his eyebrows. "We're going to be in the impact chairs for three months?"
Harris nodded. "Three months, two days and three hours.
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