by Tom Kratman
He’d just gotten started when one of the nurses entered to call him back to the Emergency clinic. A child had come in with convulsions and muscle spasms leading to contracture of the spine, neck and face muscles. He’d already treated three suspected influenza cases this morning. Fortunately, there was a vaccine that covered H9N6 freely available, but if this was K-fever, he would have to decide whether to report the case and give the vaccine, or withhold a potentially life-saving treatment to protect the patient’s identity.
Fortunately, George did not have to choose. The patient was the eleven-year-old son of one of the other nurses and unlikely to be a threat. Under the supposition that all medical personnel would need to be protected, he took the biometric and DNA samples and waited for authorization. Within the hour, he’d also received instructions to vaccinate not only the child, but all personnel in the clinic, including himself. That was ominous. If the TNHO felt that all medical workers were at risk, then that meant K-fever was in the wild and spreading, not just targeting insurgents. Could the disease have been spread specifically to draw in the insurgents? To force them to come for the vaccine, only to be identified and hauled off by Guardia or UN Marines?
After administering the vaccines, George returned to the laboratory. He dared not use the portable DNA sequencer or blood analyzer. They were very likely to be monitored by satellite interface or by one of the UN Space Fleet ships in orbit. He’d have to use the frequently-broken sequencer in the lab. Fortunately, it was very similar to one he had used and often fixed as an undergraduate student in Panama. As long as he removed a side panel and kept it cool, it would work—eventually. After rigging a fan to blow air through a damp towel—both for evaporative cooling and to trap dust and dirt—he set the sequencer to its task and went home for the day.
Well, he almost went home, but decided to go out to the Guerrero farm to check on Yelena and Rodrigo. The boy was no better, but apparently his relationship with Yelena was. She greeted him warmly, in fact, rather hotly. She later mentioned that the very fact he returned to her—and Rodrigo—on his own, told her everything she needed to know about that man who was to be her husband.
After checking on his patient, and confirming instructions with the family members caring for him, George sat down with Yelena’s father Enrique Guerrero. After asking, and receiving, the patriarch’s blessing, they discussed Rodrigo’s prognosis. Yes, the family understood that there was not much that anyone could do for him. No, they did not blame him. Life was hard in Balboa. They would mourn him, but life went on.
Determined to ensure that this life went on without drawing attention or suspicion from the unseen forces behind the spread of K-fever, George said his goodbyes. This time he was accompanied by Yelena, who would not let him return to the lab, but rather insisted that he be properly fed and rested for the next day. Mostly rested. It wasn’t as if he was expecting results from the sequencer before morning, anyway.
The next morning he approached hospital rounds with more energy than he’d felt for the past few years. Is it the challenge? Or the fact that Don Guerrero gave his blessing and Yelena said “yes”? Nevertheless, he had clinical duties to complete before returning to the lab . . . or Yelena. Upon entering the small cluster of exam rooms that comprised the clinic, he was surprised to see a new nurse, freshly assigned by TNHO. He was immediately suspicious, particularly by her fair hair and complexion—clearly Scandinavian or other Caucasian derivation from Earth—although she covered it with a bit too much makeup. She looked familiar, though. For the rest of the day he tried to avoid her, suspecting her to be a UN or TNHO spy.
After his last patient, he sat at the desk he’d installed in a former closet at the back of one of the exam rooms. It was tiny, but it was an office where he could update records and store his years-out-of-date medical textbooks. A knock on the door surprised him. It was the new nurse, and she’d obviously just washed her face in one of the exam rooms—the excessive makeup was gone, and she held a wet cloth in one hand. “A mutual friend told me to tell you it’s ‘Duck Season,’” she said once she had entered and the door was closed.
As he peered at her it hit him why she’d looked familiar. The makeup had to have been a disguise, because she’d hardly changed in fifteen years. “Annalise.” George greeted the girl—woman—who had been Julio’s constant companion their final year at Duke. He looked at her some more. No, she’d changed, just not in the face. Still a dancer’s physique, but a bit older, and quite a bit tougher. It showed in her body language.
“You look like hell, Doc, but I hear you’re getting better.” She smiled as she said it. The office was small, but it had a guest chair, and she sat in it. “I told Yelena to keep an eye on you and make sure you were rested last night.”
“What, is everyone conspiring against me?” He paused. “Wait, how did you get here?” After a moment he hurriedly added “. . . not that I’m complaining.”
“My family was never very compliant with the European Union. They were being punished because I moved to the United States for work and school, and of course they didn’t approve of the work I did to put myself through school.” She smiled, but it was sad and regretful. “Loss of their Basic Living Allowance unless they emigrated to Terra Nova. They came, so I came. Of course, I have a necessary skill set and was allowed to come voluntarily and choose my posting. It was about two years after Julio emigrated. I looked him up, he was a young idealistic doctor in Aztlan, but that was beginning to change.”
“I managed to get my parents settled in Southern Columbia and married Julio, trying to keep him out of trouble since then. Well, actually, I’ve helped him get into trouble, too, but I’ve also managed to keep him out of the UN’s notice.”
George sat looking at the woman before him, remembering the nurse who was not quite the airhead that many of Julio’s medical school crushes had been. She also had a Master’s degree, if he remembered correctly.
“Yes, I do. Molecular Biology,” she replied when he asked. The light finally dawned on George.
“Aha! So he sent you to spy on me?” he asked, half in jest.
“Not spy, no . . .” she smiled, this one friendly and reassuring. “. . . but he knew you would need help. I can be your contact and your assistant, both in the lab and clinic.”
“In that case, we should get to work.” George smiled back then stood, gesturing her to lead the way out of the cramped office and into the lab.
The DNA sequencer had completed its analysis. The output was still a bunch of numbers until compared to the nucleotide and peptide databases. The nucleotides would be used to determine the sequence of amino acids comprising specific protein products, and the proteins should identify the virus and any toxins present.
Since George was primarily interested in anything that looked like a virus, he assigned Annalise any sequences identified as normal human protein. She would check everything against known genetic diseases and medical disorders, while he looked for sequences that should not be there . . .
. . . and found it after almost seven hours of intensive scrutiny. He’d sent Annalise home at least an hour ago. It was already dark, but she’d promised to check with Yelena and send back supper if she could. George had identified the genes for H9N6 almost immediately. He’d then looked for the sequences defining the glycoprotein “coat” that formed the exterior shell, but kept coming up against gaps in the sequence that didn’t make sense until he recognized that the nucleotides that were being identified were not terrestrial DNA!
He considered the implications. Deoxyribonucleic acid was a complex molecule made up of a long-chain of alternating sugar molecules—deoxyribose—and molecules known as nucleotides or “bases.” DNA had four known nucleotides: Guanine, Thymine, Cytosine and Adenosine, which were typically identified by initials: G, T, C, A. The amino acid building blocks of proteins were encoded by sets of three bases, allowing sixty-four possible three base codes, such as A-T-G, G-A-C, C-T-A, etc. There were only twenty known amino acids, though, a
nd George, along with many leading scientists, wondered what the other codes were for. In the early twenty-first century, scientists synthesized novel nucleotides “X” and “Y” and even managed to create single-celled organisms that could replicate DNA with the new components, but no novel naturally occurring amino acids or nucleotides were encountered until Terra Nova was discovered.
Despite decades of humans on Terra Nova, the genetics and protein structure of Novan life was still largely unexplained. Scientists had identified four additional nucleotides—unimaginatively named simply “M,” “N,” “O,” and “P.” The additional bases allowed for up to 512 amino acids, and millions of novel proteins, yet only seven new amino acids had been identified, with about a hundred novel proteins. At least, that was all that was in the medical literature that George could access. Most of the unique proteins encountered on Terra Nova caused allergic reactions in humans, and some Earth life forms. Others seemed simply inert or useless except for the fact that they accumulated in the nervous systems of intelligent creatures and acted much like prions or the sludgelike amyloid protein responsible for brain diseases that had been eliminated over a century ago on Earth. Like those ancient diseases, accumulation of too much inert protein in humans ended in encephalitis, dementia and death.
The sequencer had identified the usual G, T, C, and A nucleotides, plus unusually high quantities of the U, uracil, nucleotide normally only found in RNA, plus trace amounts of M, N, O and P. The latter was not unexpected on Terra Nova, and presented no problem by itself. The danger lay in the proteins, not the DNA alone, which could easily be present on the skin. What was most unusual was that the sequencer had also identified two additional nucleotides: “R” and “Q” that George had never seen before. Even stranger was the fact that the nucleotide identities were in the sequencer database, even though the machine had to be at least twenty years old.
These nucleotides had to have been known on Earth when I was in medical school, thought George. On a hunch, he had the sequencer print out its nucleotide reference database; there might be a clue there. He also retreated briefly to his office to fetch a couple of his old textbooks. On the other hand, it would have to wait. He heard Yelena coming, and she was certain to make him stop for the evening, or at least pause for supper.
Yelena had indeed brought food, and news of her brother. He was no longer unconscious or convulsing, but was still in a lot of pain. It was still touch-and-go, and George was torn between getting immediately back to the lab versus heading out to the Guerrero farm to see his patient. She would not allow him to do either, however, claiming that he would not help her brother by being too tired to think straight. She made him lie down in an exam room and watched over him as he got at least two hours sleep.
Upon waking, George sent Yelena back the farm with some special instructions. He wouldn’t need what he’d sent her for until tomorrow, but sending her back now would gain him several hours without her or Annalise nagging him to rest and keeping him from the lab. Now, he needed to read through the sequencer database . . .
Shortly after sun-up, George was running around the lab, talking to himself as he started to pull glassware out of cabinets and rummaged through the drawers in the lab looking for components. “It’s a virus . . .” He took a long glass cylinder and clamped it to a stand. “Of course, we knew it was a virus . . .” He rotated the cylinder so that it stood upright and fitted a valve to the bottom so that it could be directed to drip into a row of test tubes in a rack below.
“. . . but it’s flu, not entirely . . . not entirely H9N6, that is . . .” He reached into a drawer and pulled out a packet of white crystalline powder. “There’s an additional DNA strand in the viral shell . . .” He dug around for a funnel, placed it in the top of the cylinder, and started to pour the crystals into the cylinder. “. . . it codes a novel protein using synthetic nucleotides.” Once the cylinder was nearly full, he tapped the sides of the cylinder to settle the powder.
Annalise walked in to find George frantically racing around the small lab opening drawers and cabinets and muttering hoarsely to himself. “Glass rod . . . glass rod . . . need a glass rod to tamp it all down.” He was gasping for breath between words, there was a sheen of sweat on his face, and his eyes were wide and manic.
“DOCTOR!” She shouted, and it brought him up short. He turned and stared, not recognizing her for a moment. Of course she was back to wearing heavy makeup to disguise her face, but it shouldn’t have taken quite so long for recognition to dawn on him. “George, sit!” She pulled a lab stool over, grabbed him by the upper arm and pulled him to the chair.
He sat for several minutes, breathing heavily, and slowly the frenzied expression faded. He eyes were still alight with discovery, though.
“You’ve found something, haven’t you.” It was a statement, not a question.
He nodded. She’d pressed a glass of water in his hands. Not coffee—the last thing he needed was coffee. He drank deeply, swallowed, then sat quietly for a bit more before calmly answering. “It’s the nucleotides. Native Terra Nova life has additional DNA nucleotides.”
“Right. That’s the first thing we have to learn before getting licensed on Nova.” She raised an eyebrow at him as he tried to rise from the chair. “Sit. Go on.”
He took another drink and then continued. “We learned that the Earth has known about the Terra Nova nucleotides for decades and synthesized their own variants. They even named them in sequence with the Novan bases.” He motioned to the separator column on the lab bench. “Have you seen the glass rods? I need to tamp that down before I run the separation?”
Glaring at him to keep him seated, Annalise opened a drawer and pulled out a glass rod no bigger than a pencil. She lit an alcohol burner, flame sterilized the glass rod, then used it to compress the white powder in the column. When George tried to rise again, she waved him back. “Stay seated; you’re in no shape to load a column, you’ll pour too fast and stir up the surface of the gel.” Although manic, he’d maintained standard lab and clinical safety rules, so everything was clearly—well, within limits of his handwriting—labeled. She picked up a beaker covered with wax paper, looked at him with raised eyebrow, and he nodded.
While Annalise carefully added the clear liquid to the column of white powder, George continued. “Terra Novan life has M, N, O and P nucleotides. Earth synthesized Q and R . . . and they immediately found some unusual proteins.”
Annalise tapped the side of the cylinder, dislodging bubbles. She poured more liquid in the top while gradually letting some out through the valve at the bottom, never allowing the level at the top to go below the top of the crystals. When she straightened up and looked back at George, she could see the signs of fatigue warring with the realization of discovery.
“So, that’s what we’re separating? One of those proteins?” She looked him up and down, then smiled sweetly. He knew that look. Yelena had one just like it. “And just how much coffee have you had this morning? Or should I ask how much since last night? Yelena said she was going to make you sleep where is she? Should I call her?”
He shook his head. “No, this can’t wait. We need to do this for Rodrigo and we can’t wait.”
“I know that!” She responded hotly. “But I can do this for you! You have to see patients, and you’re in no condition to do that right now. I should call for Yelena.”
“No, no need.” He shook off the hand she used to restrain him as he tried to stand. He went over to the tabletop centrifuge, removed the cover and took out a tube with a dark red solid on the bottom and amber liquid above. “Dr. Espinoza is in the clinic today, and he has the students helping him. I sent Yelena out to the farm. Told her to have the younger kids catch me four rabbits and a dozen frogs.”
He went to place the tube from the centrifuge into the rack with the other tubes, but fumbled, and almost dropped the tube on the floor. Annalise gently took it from his hands, and not-so-gently pushed him back toward the chair. “I will do this.
I am your hands, you’re too jittery. You will drop it or break it. Now, what next?”
George conceded and dropped back onto the chair. “Electrophoresis. We use the electrical charge on the protein to separate it by size and weight. I found a control sample of green fluorescent protein close to the right size of the protein we’re looking for. It will come out the bottom of the column right before the protein we’re after. Then we drip some of it on frog’s leg muscle to see if it causes convulsions.”
“Wait. If we’re doing electrophoresis, what’s the separation column for?” She pointed to the powder and liquid filled glassware on the bench.
“Oh, I forgot!” George started to rise yet again, but stopped himself before Annalise would react. “Sorry. That’s for after. Separate electrically, test on frog muscle, and if it works, we’ll need the column.”
“Okay. That’s better. One thing at a time.” Annalise found the components he’d prepared, then opened a packet containing a sterile pipette and carefully drew some of the amber liquid and placed it on the electrophoresis assembly. She opened another pipette and extracted some greenish liquid from a bottle and also placed it on the gel. She connected a battery, then set a timer and closed the drawer so that the room lights could not affect the process. “This is prehistoric medicine,” she said as she pulled out some black fabric to drape over the separation column until they needed it.
“Mid-twentieth century,” George replied. “But effective. If the extract causes the frog muscle to twitch, we’ll inject it into rabbits to see if we can make an antibody. I also have some ideas about using P nucleotide from antaniae saliva to make an antitoxin.”
There was the sound of the outside door, and a female voice called from the clinic. Yelena had returned with the frogs and rabbits. Annalise went to greet her, and George could hear the sounds of them talking. Probably deciding whether he needed to be forcibly restrained in order to force him to rest. He smiled at the thought—it meant they cared, and he couldn’t argue with that. He sat back and closed his eyes. “For now, we wait.”