"The ship is still in orbit," said J'Tull.
Swift sighed. "Get me Exogenesis immediately," he said coldly.
At the podcraft's comm controls, Mariko quickly opened a channel. Before now, she never would have thought she would enjoy performing such a mundane task so much.
Though the gag prevented her from telling him when the channel was open, Mariko did the job with a wave.
"Exogenesis here," said Lieutenant Simon's voice over the comm.
"What the hell do you think you're doing, Martin?" snapped the captain. "I thought I told you to leave orbit before the fleet got here."
"I must have misunderstood, sir," said Martin.
Swift shook his head angrily. "What's your status?"
"Trying to stay out of their way," said Martin. "So far, they're not bothering with us."
"Teleporters?"
"Still off-line," said Martin.
"How do you rate our chances of making it back in the podcraft?" said Swift.
"I wouldn't recommend it, sir," said Martin. "The skies are full of fighters. They're shooting down everything that leaves the ground."
Confirming the news, the roar of passing aircraft shook the podcraft. Peering through the cockpit window, Mariko glimpsed vapor trails cutting across the red-tinted sky.
Swift cast his eyes upward. "Response to hails?"
"None, sir," said Martin.
"They don't leave us much choice," said the captain. "I guess we'll have to take matters into our own hands."
"Meaning what?" said Commander J'Tull.
"We're already in the middle of this," said Swift. "Maybe a middleman is what these people need."
"You wish to negotiate," said J'Tull. "Yet the invaders refuse all attempts at communication."
"Meeting face to face could be a different story," said Swift.
"They already have what they want," said J'Tull. "This world is effectively theirs."
"All the more reason for them to be charitable," said Swift.
"We know nothing about them," said J'Tull. "There is no basis for understanding."
At that, Mariko interrupted, clapping her hands for attention.
Raising an index finger, she signaled for her shipmates to wait a moment. Then, she turned to the multiterpreter controls on the shuttle's comm console.
Overriding the translation function, she set the device to convert keyed text into audio output. Hastily, she typed on the keyboard and triggered the speech synthesizer.
Her words emerged from the shuttle's speakers in a computer-generated male monotone.
"I know about them," said the voice.
"What do you know, Mariko?" said Captain Swift.
Mariko typed more text into the multiterpreter. "Please send the Vox outside," said the synthesized voice.
When Swift had ushered his friends out of the shuttle and closed the hatch, she typed again. "I think the invaders are the real mazeesh," said the voice.
"Mazeesh," said Swift. "That's what started this whole mess."
Mariko typed furiously. "Long ago, visitors from the stars came to Vox. They were hunted and killed for an organ that was said to increase Vox fertility.
"The general population believes the opposite…that the Vox were the mazeesh, the persecuted ones. Without a written language, there are no history texts to disprove it."
Swift nodded thoughtfully. "So you're saying the real mazeesh have returned for payback."
"For crimes the Vox don't remember committing," Mariko said through the speech synthesizer.
"And you say there's no proof of the true story?" said Swift.
Mariko turned and shrugged at him, then resumed typing. "Maybe," said the synthesized voice. "There's an underground garden. I believe information is stored there in the form of scent signals from the cultivated plant life."
"Could you interpret and record the information from these scent signals?" said Swift.
"Possibly," said Mariko. "With a scanner and multiterpreter."
Swift rubbed his chin. "I know you've been through a lot," he said, looking at her apologetically, "but that information is vital. Can you get it for us?"
Mariko tapped three keys on the keyboard. "Yes," said her surrogate voice…though all she really wanted to do was return to Exogenesis and pass out in her quarters. "If I can find someone to lead me back there."
"The people you came with," said Swift.
"If any of them are still alive," said Mariko.
Swift stood with his hands on his hips and stared thoughtfully at the floor. "This goes against my better judgment after reuniting the away team," he said, "but we're going to split up.
"Martin, have any transports from the fleet touched down? Anything that looks like it might be carrying command personnel?"
"An armored transport with fighter escort is landing at the ministry," Martin said over the Exogenesis link. "The building where you were first attacked."
"They're coming for the Vox surrender," said Swift. "That's where J'Tull and I are going.
"You'll head for the garden, Mariko. As soon as you have the evidence we need, get to the ministry as fast as possible. If teleporters are operational at that time, beam from site to site."
Swift opened the shuttle's hatch. "We'll have plenty of support from Lyra's people," he said, looking out and waving at his nearby Vox friends. "Some go with Mariko, some come with me and J'Tull."
Lifting a weapons case from the floor, he swung it onto a seat and unlatched it. "And Martin," he said. "Your orders are to move Exogenesis out of orbit the instant any of those ships makes a threatening move against her. Do you understand?"
"Aye, sir," Martin said briskly.
Swift removed an emanator pistol from the case and handed it to Mariko. "This could get tricky," he said, meeting her gaze. "If anything happens to J'Tull and me, return to the ship via teleporter or podcraft. If neither is available to you, hide with Lyra and the others until a retrieval effort can be mounted. Understood?"
Mariko nodded.
"Captain," said Martin. "We've worked out a translation matrix for the Vox spoken language. We're sending it down now."
"Great," said Captain Swift. "Load it into all handheld multiterpreters, Mariko. Everyone gets a multiterpreter, a communi-link, and an emanator pistol…more than one, if you can carry it."
As Mariko set about downloading the translation matrix from Exogenesis, aircraft roared by overhead. In their wake, she heard the sound of shouting outside the shuttle; through the cockpit window, she saw Swift's Vox friends confronting another group of Vox.
Mariko popped up out of her seat, nearly hitting her head on the ceiling. The new arrivals were familiar…and welcome.
Oric and Giza's incredible markings stood out like a sore thumb.
Her fingers were a blur of motion on the multiterpreter's keyboard. "Captain," said the voice from the speech synthesizer. "The Vox from the Garden are here."
Following her emphatic pointing, Swift looked out the window, then hurried to the hatch. As she watched from the cockpit, he joined the Vox outside and ended the confrontation with smiles and handshakes.
After a moment, Martin broke in over the open channel. "Captain? Is everything all right down there?"
"That depends on your definition of 'all right,'" said J'Tull, her voice perfectly even…though Mariko could have sworn she heard annoyance in her tone.
"What I meant to say is…"
J'Tull cut him off. "You have your orders, Lieutenant. Notify us of any change in status. Podcraft out."
"Exogenesis out," said Martin, and Mariko closed the channel. The next thing she knew, J'Tull was running a medical scanner over her mouth.
"The gag must be removed surgically," said J'Tull, examining the scanner's readouts. "You will have to wait until you return to the Exogenesis."
Mariko nodded.
J'Tull turned away from her, directing the scanner at her own broken left hand. "I suggest you gather your equipment and disem
bark," she said. "You have limited time to complete your assignment."
Mariko finished programming the translation matrix into the multiterpreters and did as J'Tull had instructed. She left the podcraft without waiting for a goodbye from the Hephaestan, which she knew from experience not to expect.
But on her way out, she heard J'Tull say something just the same. It was low, just audible enough to reach her, and offered when she was already out of the shuttle…as if it might not even have been meant for her at all.
But she knew it was meant for her.
"Live long," said J'Tull, "and prosper."
Mariko thought it was the nicest thing anyone had said to her all day.
*****
Chapter Thirty-One
Dr. Plog found it ironic that one of the creatures responsible for his blindness now required his care.
The Vox on the table before him was the surviving member of the trio that had been brought onboard Exogenesis. His two suicide bomber companions had caused extensive damage to the ship and injury to its personnel – including Plog.
And now, the creature needed treatment. He had suffered extensive second-degree burns in the fire onboard his spacecraft…and respiratory arrest resulting from inhalation of chemically toxic smoke. The arrest had taken hold in the brig, after the Vox's capture by Lieutenant Simon in the armory.
Now, the creature's life was on the line, and the ship's physician was blind.
Plog directed the Vox's treatment as best he could, judiciously guiding Crewman Sanders and Medical Technician Khalil through each procedure. Sanders, whose field of expertise was entomology, was a capable medic who on occasion had filled in for Plog during his hibernations; Khalil was a talented med tech who knew his way around medlab and performed well under pressure. Neither of them, however, shared Plog's expertise…and without sight, his guidance was of limited effectiveness.
Miraculously, they had managed to treat the casualties from the explosion without a negative outcome…but working with an unfamiliar alien physiology was another matter. It would have been a challenge for Plog even with his senses intact; working through the eyes and hands of others, it was far more difficult.
Plog wondered if the creature would have done things differently if he could have foreseen this result.
"Blood oxygen still dropping," said Med Tech Khalil. "Respiration near zero."
"So much for the gamazine," said Plog. He had had high hopes that the compound would neutralize the chemical agent paralyzing the Vox's lung; it was the third failed therapy so far.
A respirator pushed pure oxygen directly into the creature's airways, but the chemical agent prevented the oxygen from penetrating the lung tissue. It also prevented waste gases from escaping the lung, leading to a toxic buildup in the bloodstream.
For the Vox to live, the medical team had to restore his respiratory function…but Plog was running out of counteragents. He realized that he needed to attempt a more radical approach with his rapidly fading patient.
It was time to open a can of worms…literally.
"Crewman Sanders," said Plog. "Retrieve canister X-11 from the incubation compartment. Mr. Khalil, disconnect the respirator."
Plog listened to Sanders' footsteps as she crossed medlab. At the same time that he heard the door of the incubation compartment hiss open, he heard a matching hiss as Khalil removed the respirator mask from the patient's face.
"Got it," said Sanders, closing the compartment and returning to the table.
"Open the container, Crewman," said Plog, "and extract a handful of worms."
"Worms?" said Sanders.
"Kolyati nematodes," said Plog. "Kindly deposit them in the patient's oral cavity. And be quick about it. He's been arrested for more than five minutes now."
Sanders unscrewed the lid of the canister. Plog heard a sucking sound as a mass of the sticky organisms was dislodged from its gelatinous nest.
"Mr. Khalil," said Plog. "Open the oral cavity for insertion of the nematodes."
"Yes, Doctor," said Khalil.
"Kolyati nematodes are parasites," said Plog. "They enter a host organism's body and metabolize chemical byproducts of respiration without damaging tissue. Their physiology is so adaptive, they have been able to parasitize numerous species, consuming countless compounds from wildly varying respiratory processes."
"Lung worms," Sanders said distastefully. "Parasitic lung worms."
"Exactly," said Plog. "And fast-acting."
"They're in," said Sanders.
"Close the oral cavity," said Plog, "and let's see what happens." The doctor cleared his throat and tapped the cheekbones just under his useless eyes. "In a manner of speaking, that is."
After a moment, Plog was rewarded by the accelerated beeping of the vital signs monitor. Placing his hand on the patient's chest, he felt the rise and fall of breathing.
"Respiration rate is climbing," said Crewman Sanders. "Blood oxygen level's coming up, too."
Plog nodded, pleased with the result. It was then that he made a terrible mistake.
Later, he would realize that if he had left well enough alone, the Vox's system probably would have improved and stabilized on its own. Plog meant well when he ordered the dilukiphen, hoping the stimulant would speed the creature's respiratory recovery…but he failed to foresee the drug's interaction with another substance.
As fine a job as his assistants were doing, neither of them anticipated it, either. "Two cc's of dilukiphen," said Plog, and Crewman Sanders administered the drug.
Seconds after Sanders injected the dilukiphen, Plog heard the sound of the creature twitching on the table. The tones emitted by the monitors began to race.
"What's happening?" Plog said urgently. Not for the first time, he wished that his vision were restored…that instead of blackness, he could see the patient's condition and the readouts on the medical monitors.
"Some kind of micro-seizures," said Med Tech Khalil, sounding uncertain. "But they're not cranial in origin. I don't understand."
As Khalil paused, Plog could hear the Vox's spasms intensify. Though the creature was restrained at the wrists and ankles, his body snapped up and down, hammering the table.
"More like micro-explosions," said Sanders. "Chemical reactions in the bloodstream."
An unwelcome theory sprang into Plog's mind…unwelcome because it suggested that he had done his patient harm.
Like his comrades, the Vox had been doused in a chemical that would explode on contact with a catalyst. One of the first things the medical team had done to the creature was remove the substance from its fur and skin.
It was possible, however, that trace amounts of the chemical had been absorbed through the skin and entered the bloodstream. Perhaps, like the triggering compound on a fellow suicide bomber, the dilukiphen had reacted with the chemical, setting off explosive microbursts throughout the circulatory system.
It would be like a million tiny bombs going off inside the Vox's body, tearing holes in blood vessels and tissue from within.
"Quickly," said Plog. "Scan his bloodstream for the chemical agent we purged from his epidermis."
As Sanders and Khalil worked, the Vox battered the table more violently. Plog felt helpless, forced to wait forever for test results that he could have whipped up in an instant if his sight were functional.
"It's there, all right," Sanders said finally. "At least until the dilukiphen hits it."
Plog's theory was confirmed. His spirits sank, for he knew that he should have anticipated the possibility…but he hurled the self-loathing aside as soon as it blossomed. There was absolutely no time for regret and reproof; without effective intervention, the Vox would be dead within minutes.
Shifting into emergency medicine mode, Plog rifled his mind for a course of treatment…something that would neutralize the reactions without spurring another negative outcome.
He made a decision. "Prepare a solution of ten percent sodium bicarbonate," he said. "Administer one hundred c
c's intravenously."
As he waited for his assistants to comply, Plog reconsidered the call. The reactive chemical agent in the Vox's bloodstream was an acid-based compound; sodium bicarbonate, an alkali, should neutralize the agent and quench the explosive reactions. So far as he could determine, the interaction of the acid, sodium bicarbonate, dilukiphen, and other compounds in the Vox's bloodstream would not produce destructive byproducts or effects.
He couldn't be certain, working with an alien physiology…but upon reflection, he still thought it was a reasonable course of action.
"Hold his arm steady," Khalil said to Sanders…and then, Plog heard the hiss of a hypospray. "Bicarb's in," said Khalil.
Reaching out, Plog rested his fingertips on the Vox's chest. The creature continued to thrash; Plog could feel crackling under the skin.
Then, the tones from the monitors began to slow. The force and frequency of the spasms diminished. The continuous crackling under the skin dropped to an occasional weak fizzing.
"Sodium bicarb did the trick," Sanders said with relief. "The microbursts are subsiding. They've done a lot of damage, though."
"One step at a time, Crewman," said Plog. "Now that we've put out the fire, we'll make repairs."
For a moment, it seemed to Plog that the worst was over. Repairing the damaged tissue and blood vessels would be a lengthy procedure…but the destructive seizures had been checked. It was possible, he began to believe, that the patient would survive.
Then, he heard a muted popping sound from the body on the table.
"What was that noise?" he said.
Suddenly, the monitor tones went crazy. One of them accelerated faster than the rest…then became a shrill, extended note.
Plog recognized it as the cardiac monitor and realized the significance of the uninterrupted tone: the patient's heart had stopped.
"A microburst in the heart!" said Sanders. "It blew a hole through the upper left chamber!"
Plog could not have been more wrong about the worst being over. He was blind…his assistants had limited surgical experience…and all of a sudden, it was time to cut.
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