Molotov

Wiera stared at the collection of folders laid out across her desk. In front of her lay the entirety of humanity's knowledge on the system that now hosted them, organized discretely by astronomical body, and with it all physically represented in front of her, she couldn't help but think how very little any of them knew.

Her gaze shifted down to the substantially thicker file in her hands, and she traced the creases serving as the only evidence of the death-grip she had maintained on it a few hours ago while pouring over its contents. She glanced up and looked form her watch to the door to her office- a cozy room just large enough to comfortably accommodate meetings of a few people, a consequence of having been built by partitioning off the front of the room designated as a living space for the mission's Marine commander prior to launch. It was a spartan place to lay one's head, but she took comfort in he fact that she and her only remaining family weren't currently hot racking in the main section of barracks.

She continued to wait patiently, anticipating a response to her invitation of the other two members of the crew's leadership to meet.

The door beeped and slid open almost silently. Even if it had been silent, the Captain would've hazarded a guess that Colonel Dombrowski would've noticed somehow anyway. His interactions with her had been relatively business-like on Earth, and truth be told he had been more concerned with Frolov at most of the briefings. Ever since Kosta had discovered the Major-General was dead during one of his periodic wake-up calls from cryosleep during the voyage, he'd been recalling the details of every meeting, going over service records, and thanking his lucky stars that Leonid was not here to do his characteristic back-seat driving.

"Colonel. I hope I'm not intruding...", a glance around the empty room, then at his wrist. "Or too late?"

Truth be told, the Captain had lost track of time a little. His quarters were too... quiet? Too open? Too something, he knew that much, and so spent all of his time non-cryo in his ready room off the bridge. Sleeping, eating, or, as he was wont to do, reading - his latest endeavour was an account of the first Jovian missions.

She gave a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes, but was genuine enough for its restraint, "No need to worry, Captain. For all the intermittent wake-ups over the years, we are only now waking up for the long-term: surely we deserve a brief moment for adjustment. In any case, you're punctual enough- Chief Engineer Martens hasn't joined us yet."

She gestured to one of the chairs set out on the opposite side of her desk before leaning back in her own seat, folder still in hand, "I believe we should wait for him before getting to some of the things I wanted to discuss, so feel free to make yourself comfortable." She smiled, almost nervously, "I suppose when we reach our new home 'comfortable' might be a relative term for a while, so we should enjoy it while we can, no?"

Kosta gracefully reclined into the proffered chair, remained still for a moment, then shifted a uncomfortably.

"Hah, speak for yourself, Wiera. The only two places aboard this ship I find even remotely comfortable are my chair on the bridge and the couch in my ready room. Not something a captain should say about his ship..." A smile lit up Kosta's face. "But Coppy knows I don't mean anything by it. She's a fine vessel, really." A certain wistfulness had entered Kosta's voice, as though sad in the knowledge that the ship would soon end its voyage.

"How've you been finding things post-wake up, then? Your boys downstairs all squared away?"

"Oh, I agree completely. Of course, any ship that could do what the Pioneer-class did would be a beauty in my eyes, but she really does have a certain charm to her, doesn't she? I'm sure the doctor's would say it's some psychological thing, but I think the Chief and his colleagues back on Earth outdid themselves, personally."

She leaned back, giving something between a sigh and a chuckle, "Well, if I catch any more make passes at my Anka, some of them are going to be squared away in pine boxes. But yes, they're adjusting well. Even the least experienced among them were outstanding enough to earn a place here, so I have no doubt even any problem cases will be doing well before long. If anything, I suspect they're itching to have something to do besides PT and getting acquainted with the data-net's archive."

"Ahh, but it's more than the psychological, and more than the material. You're quite right, of course, she's a marvellous machine, but as her captain, I can't help but feel there's something... more. Perhaps it's just the captain's burden. Just as looking out for a complement of rowdy marines is yours, eh?" Kosta laughed softly, half-remembering all those times he and his fellow pilots had engaged in friendly rivalries with the marines aboard old sea-going ships. "If your niece is anything like her aunt, I'm sure she knows enough that your boys'll soon need looking after."

"As for something to do, well, you can tell 'em they'll have that sooner than they think. Plenty for them to do once we get dirtside. I don't envy the first boys to hit the ground - helluva task ahead of them."

"Yes, they do..." her expression became a bit more grim, "don't we all?"

She glanced at her watch and sighed, "I had hoped we could wait for Chief Martens, but on second thought I don't know what you think about the matter so we should probably talk about it now- he might find us still arguing about it."

She finally set the folder in her hand down on top of the others covering her desk and flipped it open, an image of Earth clipped to the inside. She looked at Kosta before continuing, "I'll just say what both of us, and Martens, should already know- we have to assume the Earth is gone. Eventually, everyone on this ship will know that. I believe we should make sure that's the case sooner rather than later. Not try to remove it from the data archive. Not wait for a better time to tell them- there won't be. We have to rip that bandage off now, while there are still few enough people awake that any panic is controllable. We let them know, let them come to grips with it, and by the time more people start waking up, it's just something to be accepted."

"I'm not sure I agree, Wiera. I've uh... I've known about the Earth a fair while. I might've been the first to see it. Imagine that? The first human to see that data, and know your world, your home, and everything you ever knew was burning..."

The Captain drifted off, his ominous words hanging in the air. They say your brain shuts down in cryosleep. All but the primitive side. So why had he dreamt so long of the dead and dying on Earth? Why had those readings been burned into his brain while he slept? He broke from his reverie with a start.

"I was careful as I showed people the readings, Wiera. I was careful as I confirmed what I knew to be true. And I was careful to control that information, to control the panic. We must exercise that same care with those who are still slumbering, and those who are awake who do not know. I agree they should be told, but in a careful, controlled manner. We need to offer psychological care if we can, and medical care if necessary, and ensure people aren't told recklessly. It should form part of the debrief when we wake the sleepers, but ideally a Day 2 briefing. I don't want any chaos on my ship as a result of this."

"Avoiding chaos is exactly what I'm talking about, Captain." It would not be disingenuous to describe the Colonel as a woman prone to seriousness, but now she was practically solemn, "Do not for a second let my bluntness lead you to believe that I don't understand completely what receiving this news is like. That I have for a moment forgotten how precious everything we have left is- how very little that might be!"

She paused to take a breath, prepared to continue, when she felt a dull stinging sensation and, looking down, realized at some point she had punctuated her statements by bringing her hand down on the table hard enough to knock some of the impeccably-kept files askew. She sighed, and took a deeper breath this time, continuing, "Captain... Kosta: I had already explained the situation to my only remaining family. We are not in disagreement that people will need a safe environment when they receive this news, or that we must make help available to them. We all will need to cope with this, and I believe we can find a way."

She leaned back, "We will be sure that anyone being woken up is in the care of personnel we can trust to break the news calmly and see to their well-being, see to it that there's been a chance to calm them before their discharge from medical care. But those of us awake now bear the burden of bringing about and maintaining that calm, of leading by example. But it is not the initial chaos of confusion that I fear most, as important as it is to try preventing it. What scares me is that fear of how others will react, will lead to resentment when they are not told. That resentment, and the distrust it can create will be far more dangerous."

"We have to handle this quickly -for a given definition of quick- but with tact. So I suggest we do exactly as you have said, writ larger: A Day 2 briefing. Today, we must begin to brief our respective staffs. Tomorrow, I would like to have your permission to organize a memorial service and to brief everyone else."

The Chief Engineer arrived a little later than the scheduled time, and as the door opened to admit him, the reason why was clear. There was the faintest, treated gash - covered in a thin antiseptic strip - on his forehead from bumping his head one way or another, with a slowly-fading bruise adorning the area around it, while the rest of his work uniform, other than his washed face, was streaked with the accumulated grime and oil of decades of machinery operation and repair compressed into a few short days. The bags beneath his eyes, too, showed how tired Kasper was, though whether from work or the recording that the senior officers had seen of the events back in Sol was another question entirely. Perhaps both.

Little more than a uniformed civilian - and having been one working in a design office until recently at that - his salute for the Captain was distinctly slack, and more a gesture of goodwill than evidence of truly having taken to military discipline. "Captain Jovovich. First, I am pleased to report that the Copernicus is holding up well, particularly the atmospheric and life support systems." Kasper said, tiredly, holding out an e-pad. "Hence why we're standing here to have this conversation. My report on the ship's status." he murmured. "I'll summarise it briefly to save you both some trouble. Everything has failed within design tolerances. That is to say, every failure that's happened, we anticipated. I just wish it had surprised me a little by holding up better and not having near everything I expected to fail fail."

"Our most pressing problem has been radiation damage to the external electronics. Many of them are fried and are going to need replacing before our sensor arrays are functioning properly. That's been a problem for my engineers as well, because the sensors for detecting external damage and problems with the hull are fried, too. We know that there's been an impact on the forward hull sometime during the voyage - I'm going out on a limb and guessing asteroid - but the overall structural integrity seems to have held and the armour plating did its job. And while it's not going to just die on us all of a sudden, the cryogenic support systems are having power fluctuations. We're going to have to pull people out of there or lose them if we can't keep the chambers steady."

Finishing his spiel, it takes a few moments for the exhausted engineer to acknowledge the other woman in the room, turning his eyes to her with a nod. "Colonel Kosta, thank you for inviting me. Good... morning? Is it morning? I'm not even sure anymore." said the engineer, with a hollow laugh. "But it's good of you to invite me. It makes for a nice break, and I certainly haven't slept for... at least twenty-five hours. So do give me a kick if I drift off. The MO's hypos only work for so long."

Weira gave the Chief Engineer a nod, turning to the Captain, "I can put together a priority list of people to start thawing out while Engineering works on the power issue." Looking back at Kasper, "It's good to know that things are stable, at least. But if that's the case than you really ought to do more than just take a break from working . I think I speak for the Captain when I point out we wouldn't want the Chief Engineer keeling over from overworking himself just days after arrival, So I'll try to keep this brief. Do you think the life support systems will be able to handle it if we have to pull all those people out?"

Kosta's eyes flicked to where his Chief Engineer stood, then back to Wiera mometarily. "Apologies Wiera - at ease, Mr. Martens."

Reaching out to take the e-pad and flicking through the report, the Captain half-glanced back at the engineer, examining the oil and grime staining his uniform. Continuing to scroll, he wondered aloud, "I must ask, what precisely did you roll in, Mr Martens? I seem to recall little aboard Copernicus so filthy, save perhaps the ATVs. And I trust you haven't been doing anything... untoward... with them?" A smile crossed his face, mostly genial with a little friendly mocking stirred in.

Not waiting for a reply, he set the report down on his lap, suddenly speaking far more loudly, mustering his captain's authority. "Very well. I want repair crews out on EVA immediately. I want those sensors repaired yesterday, and a full report on the damage to the forward plating on my desk before the day is out, with anything you can get on other micro-impacts soon after. Get your staff on it, though. I want you to get some rest."

Glancing down at the report once more and flicking through the pages, he paused on the one titled "CRYOGENICS", frowning at the power readings. "Wiera's right, the balance between our life support and cryo support is crucial. How do you feel about the power fluctuations? If we can get them under control we can avoid taxing the life support too hard too soon. We've still got 6 months before landfall, and I'd rather not have nine thousand people running amok in what is really a very small place."

Handing the e-pad to Wiera off-hand, Kosta looked to the engineer for the answers he sought.