To her surprise, Ray later invited Cora to sit with him in the common area. He clearly wasn't comfortable forcing her into isolation. The tablet display projected onto a nearby desk.
"So these are your vitals in our system. There was a bit of a learning curve, because we had to convert the information from your medical file to our units."
"Where did you get my medical file?"
"The Internet," he replied pleasantly, as if that answered anything.
"Ah." Cora gave up on that. "So, how'd you do the conversions?" She was trapped here, at least she could be nosey.
Ray rambled on for a while, describing how he accidentally found that fluid ounces were nearly identical to their own unit of weight measurement. And then he said something that made Cora turn green.
"Of course, since there are a hundred and sixty of your fluid ounces to a pound, that means that- Cora? What's wrong?"
"Ray?" She started, her voice cracking.
"Yes?"
"You- who told you that?"
"Tha-"
"That there's a HUNDRED and SIXTY fluid ounces to a pound?"
Ray balked at this. "Oh. Um, The Internet?"
"Ray, please, please tell me that you haven't been using that number to figure out how much of that bullshit medicine to give me."
He shrank in his chair, squeaking a
yes
.
Cora rubbed her face, trying not to think too much. "Ray. There are
sixteen
fluid ounces to a pound. And that's a rough estimate because liquids can have different densities."
Shaking, Ray slowly tapped the display and removed a zero. Then he spoke into his tablet. His voice was barely a whisper. If he'd been human, he probably would have started to cry.
The door across from them slammed open. Mar stood there, his expression unreadable.
"Cora?"
She perked up.
"Could you return to your quarters, please? I need to speak with my
colleague
."
His voice was completely flat, with none of the reverberation their voices usually had. Obediently, she went.
The moment her door shut, the Officer placed a hand on the back of Ray's neck.
[You're going to message the Science Director. Now.]
[And what? Tell him I screwed up the dosage on our risky DNA-altering medicine? Yeah, sure.]
[No, you idiot. You need to make sure that you didn't completely wreck our mission. Ask what
would
happen.]
The message response from the Director was concerning, to put it mildly.
<Of course, I understand your curiosity. We have no idea how it affects humans, as you're their first contact. According to your data, they were already entirely compatible, making them like no other species recently contacted. The most compatibility we have is 85% on Mission 7. Unfortunately, I can't tell you more, because we lost contact with them a few days ago. All we know is that their first and only subject became incredibly hostile after a single accidental overdose. There were rapid changes in their DNA reported, as well as rejection of the monitor patches. I would wholeheartedly recommend being very precise in your dosages.>
Mar turned to the Scientist, about to ask a question. The Scientist hoarsely interrupted him.
[Thirty-four.]
[What?]
[She's had thirty-four doses intended for someone weighing ten times her weight.]
They both turned to look at her door, where Cora was very obviously peeking out. "Oh-" She slid the door shut. As it clicked, the alarm sounded.
<SUBJECT DATA NOT FOUND>
The Scientist had been hiding in his room for most of the week, likely having a breakdown. Mar tried to track down the Engineer, to warn him. He'd been hard to find lately, because he'd taken to hiding in the maintenance tunnels. While they didn't have explicit proof that Cora was going to become a problem, he still worried. The other missions had much larger crews. With more trained Officers. There's no way a single subject could have become dangerous enough to derail their mission. He stopped by her quarters, gingerly sliding the door open. She was laying on the bed, facing him.
"Is everything okay? I don't feel good and things seem really tense."
Against his better judgment, he closed the door behind him and sat with her. "Everything should be fine. What's wrong?"
"Me. I mean, I feel wrong. I don't feel sick, just like I have too much energy. And like my body is... the wrong size? Does that make sense? Oh, and I'm cold as fuck. You guys need to turn the A/C off."
He nodded, inspecting her features in the dim light. Something was indeed wrong. She seemed lethargic, but her limbs were faintly twitching. Her irises still glowed.
"We're still just worried that we may have given you too much of the medicine for too long. If you start feeling worse, just call for me or Ray, okay? You're fine, otherwise the monitor would let us know." This was a lie, as the monitor had been disconnected for several days now. He reached for her hand, trying not to flinch when he felt how hot it was.
Later, while in his quarters, Mar checked the camera feed one last time. Cora was awake, looking at something on her phone. He had to make sure that there would be food for her tomorrow. The kitchen was on the other side of Cora's room, where the food was passed through. He wasn't sure if she liked the meat patties he'd been cooking, but she didn't complain. That had to be a good sign. There were green apples and maybe there would even be hard-boiled eggs if he could figure out how to not overcook them. The gray color of the overcooked yolks made him nauseous. Over the hum of the cooler, he could hear small, human footsteps.
"Cora, did I wake you up?"
It was a bit too dark in the kitchen to see anything but her eyes.
That's... unsettling.
"No, I've been awake. I need your help."
He reached for a switch, but she reached up to stop him.
"What do you need?"
"If it's something that Ray told you not to do, will you tell him I asked?"
Oh.