Page 193 of Every Almost

Well, shit.

Charlie glanced at Kess again, noticing her silver-blue markings. Hers were the cool, steady neutral she wore in the Med Bay, almost like a second uniform layer. Charlie had learned to read Kaelari markings in little ways over the past three months, both for Reyna and Kess. Orion had discussed some of the species aboard the ship during one of the first evenings she spent with him. She knew that the markings were sacred in their own ways. But there was one universal way they were honored - by keeping what Kaelari called 'steady.'

Charlie could see now that, while Kess's markings were this controlled, it seemed to mean the results they were to discuss required control.

On the display behind the primary chart, Charlie also noticed a notation that she could read even without medical training. Itwas a scan, the same scan in fact, run on three separate dates, with three identical results.

So, whatever this was, Kess had checked her own work. Twice.

And that was how Charlie knew, before Kess even said a word, that whatever was coming was substantial.

"I've been monitoring your cellular turnover since your arrival," Kess began, her voice slipping into that same precise, measured cadence Charlie had never hear her use except for when she was providing her reports during team meetings. "Standard protocol for any new crew member or individual traveling upon a Coalition vessel. But, as I know you're well aware, your case has been... unique."

"Because I'm human."

"Because you're the only PERS-transported human in Coalition medical history. Not to mention the PERS device that displaced you was also malfunctioning."

Charlie already knew this. "Right. Old debris. Uncontrolled transport. That's why everything hurt so much when I... landed."

"Correct," Kess confirmed. "But, Charlie, it may also be why we're seeing that the PERS radiation signature, the one that embedded in your cells during transport, has not degraded."

Charlie blinked. "What do you mean, hasn't degraded?"

Kess tapped the display and a graph appeared with a flat line stretching across three months of data points. "In a normal PERS displacement, residual radiation dissipates within two to four weeks. But if you look here, your radiation signature, this line, is identical today to what it was the day you arrived. It hasn't moved."

Charlie immediately panicked. "Is that dangerous?"

"No," Kess assured her quickly. "No, you're healthy but, it is significant." Kess paused, and Charlie watched the CMO's brain work in what felt like slow-motion to choose her next wordsvery, very carefully. "The embedded PERS radiation has, in fact, stabilized your cellular clock." Charlie watched Kess look up at Reyna before looking back at Charlie. "Your cells are not aging at a normal human rate, Charlie. They have decelerated."

Suddenly, the quiet of that room became deafening.

"Decelerated," Charlie repeated.

"Your biological aging, Charlie. It's slowed. It's come down to approximately one-third of the standard human rate, in fact. And it could possibly be slower. I don't have enough longitudinal data yet to be definitive, but three months of identical cellular turnover readings are consistent enough with the handful of documented cases in Coalition medical literature."

Charlie stared at the flat line on the display. Three months of data points, each one the same as the last, her body stubbornly insisting it was still January 1st, 1990. According to the PERS radiation in her system, she was still twenty-nine years old, still standing in a lab at JPL, and still reaching for that damn piece of metal that would change everything.

"So I'll just... stay like this?"

"You will not remain static, no. Biological processes will continue. It will just be at a fraction of the standard human rate. You will age, Charlie. Just very, very slowly."

"How long?"

"How... long?" Kess questioned.

"How long will I live now?"

"Charlie, with so little data, I cannot determine your total projected lifespan with certainty." Charlie just stared at her. Kess looked at Charlie before looking up at Reyna.

"Just tell her, Kess. She deserves to know," Reyna said, her voice soft.

Kess turned back to Charlie. "As a conservative estimate, I can predict that you will experience one year of biological aging for every three to five calendar years."

Charlie's brain did what it always did. It started to calculate.

The numbers came fast and merciless, even though half of her didn't want them to.

Katie was twenty-three, and she still would be when Charlie returned in three months. If Charlie was aging at a third of the rate, because right now she couldn't think about the possibility of it being a fifth, it meant that when Katie was fifty, Charlie would look approximately thirty-eight. It meant that when Katie was seventy, Charlie would look forty-five. And when Katie was ninety, if Katie made it to ninety, Charlie would look and feel...