The Lion wiped the last trace of slumber from his eyes and nodded. “Blip them our code and prepare to dock."
Five minutes later, Vilakoz had matched velocities with the massive freighter. When they had closed to within a thousand feet, a group of eight frau clams—miniature robotic tugs—shot from the midsection of the transport, their orange and lemon trajectory lights blinking madly, like a swarm of angry fireflies. The tugs dove beneath the shuttle to plant friction hooks along its underbelly. Vilakoz easily could have docked without the frau clams, but most of the big corporate freighters refused to risk even the slight possibility for error that an unknown and possibly inexperienced shuttle pilot might bring to a berthing.
The freighter transmitted a command and Vilakoz obliged by shutting down the shuttle's primary engines. The frau clam octet guided them toward a circular opening at the freighter's rear. A moment later, the transport swallowed them whole.
The Lion unstrapped his weightless body from the couch and pushed off toward the gripboard leading to the main rear airlock. Vilakoz prepared to follow.
"No,” said the Lion, shaking his head. “I need you to remain on board. I'm to go alone."
Edward Huromonus was the one responsible for this rendezvous, and the E-Tech director's security precautions bordered on the paranoid. The Lion had been asked to depart from Irrya using an undisclosed flight plan and with an absolutely minimal crew. Upon docking, only the Lion would be permitted to leave his shuttle and enter the transport. Huromonus had been unwilling to offer even a token explanation for the secrecy, revealing only that a matter vital to the security of the Colonies was at stake.
The Lion waited impatiently in the air lock for several minutes while a generated voice informed him that slight pressure differentials were being equalized. But he knew that such a simple task should not be taking this long. There must have been another reason for the inordinate delay.
Finally, the lock went green and the seal slid open, revealing a grimy but spacious and well-lit corridor. One small man stood across the threshold. He wore a white bio suit. The helmet was flipped back, revealing a pale but cheery face.
"Howdy,” said Nick.
The Lion's shock was genuine. “What are you doing here!"
"That's a hell of a greeting. I thought you'd be happy to see me."
"Did Huromonus call you too?” asked the Lion, realizing as he asked the question that such a possibility made no sense. Only the Lion and a handful of trusted clan members knew that the midget was not in a coma. “You were supposed to remain in Den. What the hell is going on?"
"More big trouble, I'm afraid. Come on. Our host is waiting to explain everything.” Nick pointed to a storage locker. “You gotta wear one of these zoot suits. Biohazards are a very big concern around here."
The Lion entered the freighter, being careful to maintain alternating heel contact with the friction deck. He managed to contain his abundance of questions while he squirmed into the garment.
With helmets sealed, they proceeded to the end of the short corridor. Here was another lengthy wait while a shiny air sampler mounted above the closed portal scanned for contamination. The Lion glanced back at the lock leading to his shuttle. A second air sampler had been mounted there, which explained why it had taken so long for his own airlock to open.
"Retrofitted through this whole freighter,” Nick explained.
A plague ship? wondered the Lion.
They passed through two more secured portals before arriving in a small compartment jammed with assorted monitoring equipment, most of which also looked new. Edward Huromonus stood poised at a console. Beside him was a slim white-haired woman in a knee-length medical smock.
"You can remove your zoots,” said Huromonus. “It's safe in here."
As they peeled away their bio suits, Huromonus introduced the woman. “This is Doctor Joan Opal. She is a molecular pathogeneticist, employed by E-Tech. Joan?"
The doctor pointed to a large monitor showing a slightly elevated fisheye view into a room severely damaged by an explosion. Three bodies could be seen protruding from the tangled wreckage.
In a calm professional tone, she began. “You're looking at this freighter's primary hazcon—hazardous contamination chamber—located three decks below us. It is used by the repo crew to check out any Category Three biohazards which might be picked up at one of their stops."
The Lion nodded. E-Tech laws required any material so classified to undergo testing and examination before a freighter would be permitted to dock at another colony. Such regulations were still vigorously enforced, even now, hundreds of years after the Apocalypse, when they had first come into being.
Dr. Opal continued. “A small suitcase, approximately eighteen inches by twelve inches, with a burnished bronze surface, was one of a number of items that the hazcon team brought here for examination. A standard external check provided no clue as to its contents. Ultra/X-ray/tilsus readers were employed next. According to the report, those methods also were unable to penetrate the suitcase."
The Lion frowned. “Is that possible?” Certainly the penetrative rays of a tilsus reader should have been able to peer through the thin walls of a suitcase.
"The hazcon team also was perturbed by their lack of results,” said Dr. Opal. A scowl crossed her face. “But at that point, instead of following procedure and calling E-Tech, they attempted to open the suitcase themselves."
"A fatal mistake,” added Huromonus. “Those are their remains you are seeing."
Dr. Opal went on. “They apparently had some trouble opening it. It took the three of them almost an hour. We don't know precisely what happened at this stage of events. By now, since they were guilty of a technical violation of E-Tech regulations, they understandably did not want themselves recorded. They tanned the strip—reported a ‘glitch’ in the surveillance system. A/V recording was lost, with the exception of a few audio conversations with the freighter's captain."
The Lion nodded. He could not actually fault the hazcon team. The vast E-Tech bureaucracy generated incredibly complex rules and regulations. Captains and pilots across the commercial spectrum frequently bypassed what they perceived as inordinate amounts of red tape.
Nick added, “When they did manage to get the suitcase open, it blew up."
"They were killed instantly,” said Huromonus. “We suspect the charge was of a type similar to that used in geo cannons."
Dr. Opal concurred. “They did follow some aspects of standard procedure. All three of them activated crescent webs. Had the explosion come from a normal charge, the cushioning effects of the webs may have spared their lives ... at least momentarily."
The Lion thought back to the massacre at the retreat, where a geo cannon was assumed to have been used by the tripartite.
"The intensity of the explosion ruptured the security of the hazcon. A deadly aerobic virus was apparently contained within the suitcase. It got into the main air system before the captain was able to initiate proper emergency measures.” Dr. Opal scowled again, obviously distressed by what she perceived as flagrant incompetence on the part of this captain and undisciplined crew. “The freighter had twenty-six men and women aboard. There were two survivors, who were lucky enough to be out on the hull doing routine maintenance. When they reentered the vessel, they found a dead crew. Fortunately, the pair were smart enough to remain in their spacesuits. They blipped an SOS straight to E-Tech."
"This all happened about seven hours ago,” said Huromonus. “Joan and her people got here quickly. They set up their detection gear and managed to detoxify several compartments. The freighter has been classified Biohazard Five—our worst-cast designation."
The Lion turned to Nick. “And how did you get here?"
The midget shrugged. “You know me well enough by now. I couldn't just sit passively in Den, waiting for the Ash Ock to decide my fate. I called Eddie here and spilled my guts. The whole shebang—everything we know so far. I told him what I felt needed to be done.
He sent a shuttle to pick me up. Coincidentally, this mess occurred right after I left your home colony. Eddie passed along info about the accident and it sounded important. I asked to be brought here.” Nick paused. “I requested that he bring you here also, as quickly and as secretly as possible."
The Lion sighed. Nick should have obeyed orders.
The midget attempted a half-hearted grin. “Hey, ya can't keep an old manipulator like me out of the mainstream! I like to go with the flow, see where it's going."
Huromonus, studying the Lion's face, said: “Blame me for these events."
The Lion blamed himself. “So this exploding suitcase contained a plague virus. And I assume that there's a connection with the Paratwa."
Dr. Opal's eyes widened. She had not been briefed on that aspect.
"Joan, welcome to the big time,” chortled Nick. “Now why don't you tell the Lion just how our exploding suitcase was found."
"Of course.” She cleared her throat. “This freighter visited the colony of Toulouse. That's one of the cylinders that still utilizes old-fashioned recycling towers for waste disposal. They believe in promoting active citizen involvement in the recycling process. It's a good practice, one that I wish more colonies would follow. E-Tech would have a lot less trouble enforcing the sanitation laws—"
"The suitcase, doctor,” Huromonus gently chided.
"Yes, I'm sorry. Now the E-Tech sanitation laws require that these recycling towers be cleaned out every five years, recoated with chemobiotics, the irradiators scrubbed, et cetera, et cetera. This suitcase was found in a Category Three biohazard chute in the Au Fait Recycling Towers—in a six-week turnover shaft. The location of the suitcase within the chute indicated that it had probably been therefore over five weeks. Another few days and it would have reached the incinerators and probably been rendered harmless."
"Or,” interjected Nick, “it would have been remotely triggered to explode before it reached the incinerators, thereby rupturing the security of the recycling tower and spreading this killer virus into the colony's atmosphere."
Dr. Opal nodded. “Gauging by the force of the explosion that occurred here, that would have been a distinct scenario. Unfortunately, our society does not consider Category Three biohazards dangerous enough to warrant serious containment.” She scowled again, displeased at such laxity.
"At any rate, the cleanup crew, as per their contract, removed all waste matter from inside the Au Fait Towers and transported it to this freighter."
"Tell us about the virus,” urged Huromonus.
"It's an aerobic mutagen, absolutely the deadliest one I've ever seen. At close range, one whiff of air tainted with this virus would kill any mammal within a matter of minutes. Even diluted to nearly undetectable levels, the virus would prove fatal to every human who breathed it. They would die within days.” She paused. “Had the contents of this suitcase been released from the Au Fait Recycling Towers in Toulouse, it would be a safe bet to say that the cylinder's normal ground-level sweep currents, coupled with spin-rate Coriolis deflection, would have spread the virus through the colony in a matter of hours. Unalerted to its presence, the projected fatality rate could have been upwards of ninety-five percent. A few survivors in the bowels of the docking terminals, perhaps, and at the ends of the colony, where people could have received enough warning to get into protective suits."
The Lion stared at the monitor, at the three corpses in the hazcon chamber. “We were very fortunate it happened here, out in space."
"Yeah, a lucky break,” said Nick, grimacing.
Dr. Opal continued. “The virus, once inhaled, initially induces an acute multiplicative infection of the upper respiratory tract. Delirium, headaches, and muscle pain are the other early symptoms. But the fever is the real killer. Core body temperature is quickly elevated to the range of forty-six to forty-nine degrees centigrade. The victim literally burns up. Comatosity ensues at this stage. Death occurs a short time later. And even after death, the virus keeps ravaging the body. Metastasis, primarily by way of the lymphatic system and the bloodstream, continues almost relentlessly.” She shook her head. “This virus possesses a pathogenicity that is stunning in its ruthlessness. In fact, I cannot conceive of such a mutagen arising from natural genetic processes. I have no doubt whatsoever that we're dealing with a designed microorganism."
Nick jumped in. “But wait till you hear the worst part of all this. It turns out that over five weeks ago, at the time this suitcase was believed to have been placed in the recycling chute, a man committed suicide by jumping off the top of the tower. His name was Philippe Boisset, and until the moment he killed himself, he was considered to be a stable functional individual. I'll give you one guess as to where Mr. Boisset had been just twelve hours before he killed himself."
"In Irrya,” whispered the Lion. “At Venus Cluster."
"Bingo."
The Lion sat down on the edge of the console, almost overwhelmed by the sudden rush of comprehension. Venus Cluster—the secretly owned corporation, which had served as the front for one of the tways of the tripartite assassin, until Gillian, Martha, and Buff had stumbled into the deadly mess. Here was the missing connection. Here was the reason behind the so-called Order of the Birch massacres, going on for these many months.
"Couriers,” said Nick. “That's who the intended victims of these massacres must have been. They were couriers, manipulated into carrying these infected suitcases, back to their home colonies, hiding them in who knows how many secret locations. And then each courier was killed, either tricked into showing up at the site of a massacre, murdered individually, or forced to commit suicide."
Dr. Opal looked shocked. “The Paratwa are responsible for spreading this virus? To every colony?"
"We believe so,” answered Nick. “This looks like their handiwork."
Huromonus nodded. “Joan, I know that you are already quite aware of the security elements involved in this situation, but I now feel obligated to reiterate that what we are discussing here is to go no further than this room."
She nodded vigorously. “Of course."
"It's gotta be a needbreeder,” said Nick. “That's what this tway—Slasher at Venus Cluster—must have been using to trick all of these couriers into following his commands. Probably hundreds of innocent men and women, carefully selected by the Paratwa to ultimately spread this threat throughout the cylinders. Men and women chosen on the basis of their impressionability to the effects of the needbreeder, brought to Venus Cluster, hypnotized, given a viral-infected suitcase, sent back to their home colonies to hide the suitcases, and then on to their respective rendezvous with the assassin. A few individuals who were especially susceptible to the effects of the needbreeder, like this Philippe Boisset must have been, could be disposed of in a simpler manner. The ultimate manipulation—persuaded to take your own life."
Huromonus spoke calmly. “We must assume that this virus has been hidden in almost every colony, if not all two hundred and seventeen of them."
"Bet on it,” said Nick. “And I suspect that nothing less than pure dumb luck led to the events aboard this freighter, although I'm not sure that such luck is actually going to do us much good. But it seems obvious to me that since this suitcase was deliberately hidden in a six-week disposal chute, at the end of that six-week period the incineration of the suitcase would have served to destroy the virus before it could spread throughout Toulouse. Therefore, it's very possible that this suitcase was going to be remotely triggered before it reached the incinerators. We may have only a few days left to us before all hell is scheduled to break loose."
The Lion turned to Dr. Opal. “Any possible antidotes within that time?"
"Not a chance. This sort of virus is extremely difficult, if not impossible, to counter. It's a true ecomutater—able to constantly adapt its viral coat in order to bind to a wide range of receptor molecules on the surface of the cells. Such an ability necessitates a multifaceted approach in developing a cure.” She sighed. �
��My E-Tech lab is one of the finest in the Colonies, but I'd need six months just to map out the variations. Even then, I couldn't promise anything. I'm not even certain that the heights of pre-Apocalyptic science could have coped with such a malignant invader."
"Many of the victims of the massacres had minor viral infections,” said the Lion. “Was that the same virus we're dealing with now?"
"I believe so,” said Dr. Opal. “Nick and Director Huromonus have provided me with some of your earlier data concerning these infected victims, although until now I was not aware of just how these victims had perished. Be that as it may, my best guess is that our virus possesses multiple developmental stages. In its earliest variations, it would seem to resemble a variant of Type C influenza. Only in its later stages, within a living human body, would it mutate into the deadlier permutation."
The Lion was puzzled. “How would the intended victims of the massacres—these couriers—have contracted this virus? It sounds like they must have opened the suitcases."
"That would be my best guess,” said Dr. Opal. “They opened the suitcases and were thus exposed."
Nick agreed. “We think that there was some sort of testing procedure which each courier had to perform in order to make certain these viral bombs were properly activated. In fact, that could explain why the Paratwa utilized such a complex plan for contaminating the Colonies in the first place. Our nasty Ash Nar assassin could not simply hide the suitcase himself; he could not expose himself to viral contamination during the testing procedure. Therefore, there had to be multiple victims, each one tricked—needbreeder-hypnotized—into planting a suitcase in a secret location and then conveniently committing suicide ... or arranging to rendezvous with the tripartite just in time for a massacre."
Dr. Opal nodded. “If these couriers, each of whom were likely contaminated during the testing procedure had not died within a few days of initial exposure, the viruses in their bodies would have begun to mutate into lethal configurations. Only the couriers’ deaths prevented this from occurring. The viruses remained in their milder forms and did not develop into their pandemic mode."
The Paratwa (#3 in the Parawta Saga) Page 20