"Then please," Rosemary implored, planting her hands on the desk and rising a few inches from her seat, "Do more. Divert resources. Make it happen, Francis."
"Miss Wells, there are any number of possible explanations for those bones," Francis explained. "We have no way of knowing how old they are or how they got where they were. One guess is as good as another."
"Everyone is 'guessing' that the remains are hundreds or thousands of years old," Rosemary complained. "But as you've said, we don't know. And they don't have to be. What if they're fifty years old? Or five?"
Francis sat back in his chair, folding his hands on the desk and regarding the medic thoughtfully. "Alright, Rosemary. What if they are?"
"The more I think about it," Rosemary said, lowering her voice, "the more I worry that those people are in mortal danger. It's true, we don't know. But why take the chance? Bring them back now."
"It isn't that simple," Carter said, glancing down at the papers beneath his hands. "We're sealed again, but far from operational. The incident caused extensive damage in the air circulation and filtration systems that is still being repaired, and in the meantime our oxygen level is just above half-capacity. It will take two more trips to the surface of the moon to replenish that, after the repairs are made, and we're struggling to find enough volunteers for those expeditions."
"Because of the hundreds of human bones they found?" Lamont asked.
Francis gave him a cold look.
"The repairs to the life support systems," Rosemary asked, "are top priority?"
"They're—" the captain hesitated. "High priority. We also need to prioritize repairs to the engines so that we can put more distance between ourselves and the tower in the event of another discharge."
Rosemary regarded him with an expression of disbelief. "You mean, put more distance between us and the refugees."
"Only if necessary," Carter clarified.
"Good lord," Rosemary groaned.
The captain looked pained. "Rosemary, please don't misunderstand me. I share your concern. This is not an ideal situation, and I also would feel more comfortable if those people were back on the ship."
"Then please," Rosemary implored, planting her hands on the desk and rising a few inches from her seat, "Do more. Divert resources. Make it happen, Francis."
"I'll see what I can do," Francis sighed. "But in the meantime, try to keep in mind that those aren't just ordinary people over there. Most of them are colonists, and the rest are highly trained crew. They know how to take care of themselves—in fact, you might say that it's their specialty."
"On a planet, yes," Lamont interjected. "They're trained to build cabins and plant gardens and, I don't know, wrestle bears. But what we've found in that tower, they're not trained for. Nobody is."
"And by 'what we've found,' you mean…" Francis invited.
"Paradise," Lamont finished. "For the record, I'm with Rosey. I don't know what's going on in that garden, but I've a feeling that time is running out."