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The stimulator on Shiro's wrist made a small beep. The sound alerted its user that its battery had fewer than forty-eight hours of power left, and that it would need to be replaced.
Shiro kept his attention on the screen in front of him. The alert was quiet, but the technician monitoring the flight simulator likely would have heard it on the video feed. Instead, Shiro continued dodging rendered obstacles.
The simulation sequence gradually became more difficult, beginning to throw in dramatic airflow changes and tighter constraints. He advanced without error, just as he had the week before.
Beep
The flight portion of the test ended, and the screen changed to show the start of the purified version of the task, a small red dot centered in the center of the screen. Shiro moved his index fingers to the single buttons on the left and right armrests of the pilot's seat. The dot changed into an arrow, pointing to left. As fast as possible, Shiro hit the left button. The arrow flashed green, then was replaced by the red dot.
The dot changed again into a left-arrow. He hit the left button.
Right arrow. Right button.
Left arrow. Left button.
Right arrow. Right button.
Beep
The exercise went for several minutes, tracking his reaction time, searching for fatigue. Each correct press was marked by the flash of green. He made no mistakes--just like he had the week before, or the week before that.
Finally, the task ended, and the screen went black. Shiro learned forward in the chair. He squinted forcefully several times as afterimages of dots and arrows blinked across the floor.
“Come out, please, Commander.”
As Shiro climbed out of the model ship, the technician was scrolling through a tablet, reading the results of his tests. He didn't look up as Shiro came to attention in front of him, in a subversion of the normal hierarchy that had been deemed fit for their situation.
“We have all we need for today,” said the tech, “I'll send this on to Human Performance.”
“Yes, sir,” said Shiro.
The tech folded the tablet into its case. “I'm supposed to tell you that you have an appointment with Dr. Ednor today at 13:00 hours. She's increased your appointment frequency to every two weeks, at the orders of General Sanda.”
Shiro's shoulders tightened, and the muscles lining his jaw strained. But he didn't tighten his fists--his hands never shook. Not yet.
“Yes, sir.”
“Okay, then I'll see you next week, same time.”
Beep
The tech followed the sound to the stimulator. His eyes lingered on Shiro's wrist for a second, before he glanced up to meet Shiro's eyes. He quickly looked away.
“Yes, sir.”
Xxx
The doctor rubbed a brush across the bottom of his toes, then along the tips of his fingers. She asked him to press his foot, leg, shoulder against her hand, then squeeze her fingers as hard as he could. She repeated the commands for both his right and left sides, just like she had the month before, and the month before that.
She checked the way his eyes moved, the way his pupils constricted, looking for slowness or unevenness. She told him to stand with his hands out and his eyes closed, looking for tipping, looking for drifting. She tested his memory and his coordination and his reflexes. She watched at every step for cheating.
Beep
She asked him questions, just like she had the month before.
Did he understand that his condition was expected to deteriorate beyond the capabilities of modern medicine within a few years?
Did he understand that the mission to Kerboros would eat up most of that time?
Did he understand that, if she found evidence of progression, she would have to pull him from the mission, anyway?
“Yes, ma'am.”
“Yes, ma'am.”
“Yes, ma'am.”
Beep
Xxx
When Shiro came home to the apartment in the Garrison barracks, Adam was sitting on the couch in the middle of the main room, reading from his tablet.
“Hey!” he said, looking up.
“Hey.” Shiro went to the small half-kitchen, the door slamming behind him. He opened a drawer and rummaged through it, knocking its various contents loudly out of the way. He grabbed one of the stimulator's tiny replacement batteries and went to the living area. He sat heavily next to Adam, shaking the couch and dropping the battery, letting it clatter on the table.
Adam turned off his tablet. “How did the tests go?” he asked, quietly.
“I don't know,” Shiro spat, “They don't want my input, so they don't bother telling me anything.”
Beep
Adam looked at Shiro's wrist. He started to speak, but he paused and said nothing, waiting.
Shiro sighed and leaned back into the couch. “They’re making me see Ednor twice a month, now.”
“Oh.”
“They're looking for the first excuse to kick me off the mission.” Shiro dragged his hand down his face, “I'm getting really tired of Sanda's crap.”
Adam looked down at the table. Swallowed. He put his hand on Shiro's. “I know you are.”
They sat in silence for a few minutes, staring at the blank TV across from the couch.
Adam took a deep breath. “You don't… have to put up with this.”
Shiro froze, bracing into the cushions. He took his hand away. “I know. ”
“I wish you'd think about what we--”
“This is what I want-- ”
“I know, but--”
“--I've worked so damn hard for it--”
“Shiro--”
“--and this--” Shiro waved his left hand at his right, “ doesn't change that. I'm not letting it stop me.”
Adam sighed. He pulled his hand back and flexed his fists on his lap. Finally, he glared at Shiro in frustration. “Just… just try to remember that you can stay here … Try to remember what's important .”
Shiro narrowed his eyes. “Why don't you let me decide what's important.”
For a second, Adam looked shocked. He blinked-- eyebrows lifted, lips parted. Then, his face hardened, jaw clenching, eyes narrowing to match Shiro's.
Shiro turned to stare at the battery, studying how the plastic curved perfectly around its shell as the weight on the couch beside him lifted. The light from the lamp over the living room reflected in its anode and cathode as the front door opened forcefully, then closed.
Shiro pressed his face into his hands, leaning his elbows on his knees. He rubbed his eyes until they no longer felt hot. He took deep breaths until the tightness in his chest subsided into something controllable.
In, out.
In, out.
In, out.
Beep