Devlin Lemoine as Gideon Ford

The Jungles of Pranoxis were a terraformer’s mutual nightmare and dream. The climate on the planet had only needed a wee nudge to support life; then the support became a boost, then a lift, and finally an uncontrolled rampage. Whatever they’d done, Earth flora liked it, and soon a third of the planet was covered in dense, sprawling, choking, wild rainforest. No fauna had yet been introduced, but that was okay - scientists had their hands full with the rapid mutation occurring in the plant life that made it all seem like the homeworld of Seymour from Little Shop Of Horrors.

And, of course, that was where Cary Tyler had to go to track down Dr. Gideon Ford.

“Gideon!” Tyler called, lifting a hand to wave from the solar raft that was scooting him toward the shore of the island. He’d left the research facility after being told Dr. Ford was ‘in the field’.

Now, the slight, spry doctor looked up from his equipment and raised a hand in return. “Nope!” he said gaily, and retreated into the mass of foliage behind him.

“Dammit,” bit Tyler softly. Disembarking, he began a pursuit. “Gideon,” he yelled into the dense green. “I just want to talk to you!”

“Busy!” came the distant reply, accompanied by the rustle of leaves and vines. “Too busy, Cary, sorry!”

Tyler gritted his teeth and pushed on, noting bitterly how poorly dressed for bushwhacking he was. It took a good twenty minutes to gain sight of Ford, in a small clearing, taking notes on a holopad. "You're not funny," Tyler grunted, trying to catch his breath.

"Wasn't trying to be," replied Ford. "I'm done with Isely, Cary. Seriously."

Tyler frowned. "Why? We've always supported your research.'

"That's the problem. I call you up at three a.m. and say 'Hey, Cary, I've been doodling on a napkin about how cool it'd be if we could bend our fingers backwards as well as forwards.' And the next day you call me and say 'Hey, Gideon, here's forty-gazillion spacebucks, a nine-story lab, ten gorgeous Swedish assistants, can't wait to see your progress on manipulating ligaments on a cellular level using nanotech.' And I say 'But but but!' and then give in because it's forty-gazillion spacebucks and Swedish assistants and I'm a sucker. You get all my research and findings and do God-knows-what with it, and I feel like I just fed a bunch of tourists to dinosaurs and swear never to work with you again, but then I get a random idea and I tell you and we're off to the races again."

Tyler was grinning - Gideon was a treat. Had been since they were in college together. "This is different, Gid," he said. "No new project. An old one we want you to check out."

"You mean, see the twisted fruits of my ill-conceived labor? Forget it!" He lookee back down at his pad. "I'm doing important work here, Cary. More than that, I'm doing good work. Clean work. Doctors Without Borders is finding incredible uses for the flora here on Pranoxis. It's important, Cary. So, beat it. I'm staying here."

"We put someone back together, Gideon," Tyler said quietly. "With your tech."

"What?" He literally dropped his pad. Scrambling to retrieve it, he stared unbelieving at Tyler. "You did what?"

"She was dying. Entire right side of her body pulped. We made a decision…"

"I am going to feed you to these plants and watch them digest you over a period of eight months and God will smile on me for doing it, Cary," Ford said softly. "You absolute horror of a corporate shill."

"It worked perfectly."

"It did?"

Tyler smiled very faintly. "It worked perfectly, Gid. She's fine. Better than fine. She was ready for hospital discharge in nine days."

"Holy shit," Ford breathed.

"She wants to get back to work - pilot with the GAF. But we don't want her back with the military before we can observe her a while. We're sending her with a crew out to the Normal Arm to check out an anomaly. I want you on board as ship's doctor."

"Oh. Oh, Cary, no. No way." Ford's head shake was slow but deliberate.

"Gideon, you were a medic during the Campaign. You're more than qualified to play sawbones on a ship. You're technically still enlisted -"

"On extended leave, Cary," Ford reminded.

"Doesn't matter; this is Isely's ship and mission, we're just getting cooperation from the GAF for manning it. You can see your work in practice, up close, and we can rest easy knowing she's got the best possible person at hand if anything goes alley-oop." Tyler sighed slowly. "Come on, doc. I need you for this."

"Is she aware just how new this tech is? Does she know it was theoretical up until you goons stuck it on her?"

"No," Tyler said, never one to sugarcoat. "And you're not going to tell her. She's healthy, she's happy, keep it that way."

"I hate you," Ford stated lightly.

"I know. Alhambra. Two weeks. Okay?"

Gideon Ford exhaled whimperingly. "Okay."