Captain Jeremy Michaels awoke with a start. It was always like this, awakening from cryostasis. And he was cold. He could feel the nanomer of his flight suit struggling to absorb heat from the surrounding air, but naturally the area immediately around his stasis pod had little heat to offer. As he levered himself forward out of his pod, he noted the two displays in the upper right hand corner of the pods frame.
One was a countdown. It read 00:07:12; and below it, 12:17:05. Seven months and some days until they would reach their destination. The fact that the countdown did not read six months brought his attention to the second display. It was a red light.
The display had three settings. Green, indicating that this would be a normal checkup on the ship status, which occurred every six months. Yellow, which would indicate a minor problem. Michaels had encountered four of these during the journey. Three had been false alarms, the other a minor misalignment of a secondary maneuvering thruster. Red was a very serious problem.
He quickly ascended the stairs that led to the bridge. It was a fairly compact setup, since most of the ships systems were automated. In the center of the array of command stations was the situation display. It was a table, with room for the crew of six to gather and make any neccessary decisions. He took a seat and began entering the commands that would explain why he had been awakened, and why it was a red alert.
"Oh shit!"
Michaels dashed back down to the stasis bay. Five other pods were still occupied. The crew of the Ark were carefully selected for their expertise. There was Sarah Galagher, engineering; Stephan Richards, biology; David McSweeney, geology; Anne Drew, astrophysics; and Michelle Phillips, mission command.
Technically, Phillips and Michaels shared command of the Noah mission, but Michaels had seniority aboard the ship, and Phillips would have seniority once the Ark had landed. However, nearly all discussions wound up as a grudge match between the two.
Michaels gazed longingly upon her supine form, following the the lay of the fabric as it conformed to the curves of her legs, her hips, her waist, her full breasts. Her nipples stood out hard against the thin nanomer of her suit, the extreme cold of the interior of the stasis pod expanding them to the size of grapes.
Enough of that, Michaels, he chastened himself. More important things to worry about than an old flame.
He turned to the control panel for the pods, and activated the reanimation sequence. Then, with one last glance over his shoulder, he returned to the bridge.
A few minutes later, the rest of the crew ascended from the stasis bay. Phillips immediately demanded, "Why in the hell are we out of stasis? This had better be good, Jeremy."
"Commander Phillips, if you will be so kind as to examine the situation table, I think you'll understand my reason for awakening you all." Michelle had certainly let some of her famed control slip if she had stooped to refering to him by his first name in front of the rest of the crew. The other members of the team sat at the display and perused the sensor logs.
"Oh my God..." Dr. Richards was the first to break the silence. "How can an entire ecosystem be wiped out like this?"
Every living creature, every plant, any organic compound had disappeared from the face of the planet, Rigelus IV, the destination for the Ark. The Noah mission was simple, at face value. Preserve the human race by colonizing an Earth-like planet. By now, Earth might have been recovering from the centuries-long winter caused by a massive meteor storm. Hundreds of ships had been sent out, each carrying a full database of humankind's history and hundreds of people in long-term stasis, along with thousands of embryos to keep the gene pool diverse. But it was all for naught if there was no ecosystem to support them.
Dr. Drew looked up from her display. "It appears that some sort of energy field swept through this system recently. It had the effect of reducing organic compounds into their constituent elements. I would be surprised if there's even an amino acid left in the entire solar system."
"What are we supposed to do now?" Phillips interjected. "Our entire mission was based on the premise that this planet would be able to support us. We have some food supplies, but its only enough for the colonists that are full grown. There won't be enough for us to animate the embryos also."
Dr. McSweeney's thick brogue chimed in. "I don't think we should presume that we kin cultivate any crops on the land. There willna be any soil as we know it now. Only simple elements and minerals, essentially dust. That kinna nourish any plant life that we may sow."
Dr. Richards added, more than a bit sourly, "About the only thing left that would nourish life is sunlight. Not that it does us any bloody good. Unless..." He trailed off into thought.
Nearly as one, the rest of the crew turned to him. "What is it, man?" Michaels finally asked.
"Well, some plants can survive on simple sunlight, water and a few minerals. This may sound extreme, but...what if we were to graft the portion of plant DNA that is responsible for photosynthesis into human DNA? Theoretically, such a human could survive on those same ingredients: sunlight, water, and minerals."
The entire crew exploded in disagreement. "That's ridiculous!" "Impossible!" "What right do we have?"
Richards waited until the noise had died down. "I think it's very possible. We've grafted genes before, to yield better crops. And I think we have every right, to insure our survival as a race. We may be the only Ark that survived. We've been instructed to act as though that were the case in our mission briefing."
"But would we still be human?" Phillips asked.
"Well, I'll have to run some simulations to be certain, but I see no reason to see that any human DNA so altered would not be genome-compatable with reference human DNA. There would be differences, but not much more than the difference between a tall man and a short man, a white woman and a black woman."
Phillips nodded, "Run some simulations then. We haven't made any decisions yet, but we should be prepared before we do. And I want you to run LOTS of simulations. I don't want any mistakes."
The group was then dismissed. Each crew member went to their individual stations, to study what had happened and to prepare for whatever may come as a result of this catastrophe.
* * *
"Well, every simulation I've run seems to indicate that this is a viable solution. It's our only solution, really."
Each of the crew members nodded solemnly. There seemed to be no other way.
"Ms. Galagher tells me we have some very efficient algae that is used in our oxygen exchange units. I believe the species will graft very easily and smoothly to human DNA. It will take me a few days to synthesize enough catalyst to alter all the colonists and embryos. It will be a simple matter to instruct the life support systems to administer the catalyst intravenously."
"Very well, Doctor," Phillips sighed. "Make it so."
* * *
Michaels awoke again with a start. The countdown in his pod read zeroes, all across the board. The condition lights were flashing in sequence, the green one flashing more frequently. The Ark had landed successfully on Rigelus IV. If the crew's gamble had been correct, the mission might still continue. He extricated himself from his stasis pod and began the reanimation of the crew. He noticed as he surveyed the crew members in their stasis pods that everyone, himself included, had a green cast to their skin. Dr. Richards had mentioned that this might be a side-effect. It was faintly encouraging to know that the gene resequencing had been at least partially successful. Michaels idly noted that Galagher, Drew and Phillips had a somewhat deeper green tint than the male members of the crew. That was odd.
* * *
"Michelle, it appears that the gene spliced more effectively to the female colonists. I believe the sample of algae that I used was a female one. The men are eating less food than they would have otherwise, but only the women have stopped eating altogether. It seems they have no need for physical food any longer."
Commander Phillips nodded distractedly. The crew had long since abandoned the formality of rank and last names, having worked together for three years now. She had noticed her lack of appetite in the last few months. She was also aware of other, more personal changes.
"Have any women been complaining to you of any...unusual side effects, Stephan?"
The doctor eyed her suspiciously. "Well...several have been talking to me of other concerns, though I wouldn't say complaining would be the correct term for it."
"What concerns?" Seeing his hesitation, she added, "I AM the commander of this colony, let me remind you. Any concerns of the colonists are my business."
"Well...many women have mentioned to me that they have experienced some, ah, developments they weren't expecting at all." Glancing at her again, he hastily added, "Some are experiencing...ahem...growth of the mammaries." Again, he looked her over.
There was no denying it, really. Michelle had noticed her own development, as the good doctor phrased it, several months ago. She had tried ignoring it, but her already above-average endowments had finally required adjustments to her nanomer uniform. Her breasts, while not inhumanly (the irony of the term was not lost on her) large, were nonetheless very noticeable.
"To what would you attribute this growth, Doctor?"
Dr. Richards brightened, now that they had ascended into the realm of pure science and away from the uncomfortably personal realm. "Well, just as photosynthesis produces food in plants from the sun, the photosynthesis in humans produces food. In the case of the subjects with a higher affinity for the gene, food is being produced TOO efficiently. Excess food is produced, which in the female mammal, is associated with lactation." Stephan stopped as he realized what he was saying.
Michelle nodded in understanding. She had personally experienced what the doctor was explaining. Last week, she had woke up feeling curiously damp. All of her bedding had been saturated in, what she had discovered very quickly, her own milk. Her nipples, now green and as large as plums, were continually dripping a slow flow of milk throughout the day. She had adjusted her suit to hide the engorgement, but each day an increasing amount of her milk had to be emptyed from a receptacle in her uniform, it having been wicked away from her breasts by the intelligent material.
"Still, some of the colonists have not experienced these symptoms, or at least not to such a degree. I believe that genetic diversity plays a role in to what extent such...characteristics are exhibited."
"Perhaps we have a solution to our food shortage problem then..." Michelle mused.