by Chris Hechtl
“It makes sense in some ways; the cities have no real purpose other than for industry or trade in an agrarian culture. People evacuated from them since they were such big targets and perhaps because their utilities stopped,” Lieutenant Jardin said. “Remind you of home on Gaston?” he asked.
“As did the flow of food and material no doubt,” Ensign Slattery murmured. “And no, it does and it doesn't,” she answered. “Mostly doesn't.” It looked weird seeing what seemed like multihorned cattle with spiked turtle shells on two legs out doing chores. Sentient, she thought, she would have to remind herself to treat them as sentient.
“That too,” Lieutenant Jardin agreed. “The people went to where the food was at. Like locusts.”
“Famine must have been bad initially. Dysentery, all of it. I remember reading a couple books about how it would be so much better after a reset. Just stop the clock and go back to basics. I bet they glossed over that part—the misery, suffering. They don't realize what that does to people.”
“I know. But it looks like they are slowly moving past it,” Lieutenant Jardin murmured, fingers flicking to check various towns. “There are signs of growth. They have a spaceport. I wonder if they trade with the other planets in the cluster?”
“I'm curious about that myself,” Commodore Logan said as she came over to the knot of officers.
“How could they live like that. I mean …?” Ensign Slattery said as she waved a hand helplessly. “Why would you want to?”
“Some do enjoy the back to basics. The knowledge that they can build a life with their hands and brain. There is nothing wrong with sweat equity,” the commodore replied as she leaned against a handy console and crossed her arms. “But an agrarian society sucks up a lot of brain power. If you spend time cutting trees you get fatigued. You may want to find a better way, but if all you know is how to cut the trees down, you can't find a better way to apply that knowledge. And taking the time to experiment means you aren't doing the actual cutting. The same goes for farming and such.”
“That … sucks, ma'am,” the spook said.
“I know. Cross pollination of disciples helps to lift a society out of this over time. That is how it's worked anyway. I'm not sure how far along they are.”
“I'd say early industrial, which is odd given there are Taurens on the planet, ma'am,” Lieutenant Jardin said. “I thought they'd be further along than radio.”
Shelby turned to him. “Why? Taurens aren't all engineers and mechanics. They had the entire range of skills. Granted, they are better known for some over others and some they are very poor at. I know they aren't thrilled at flying but …,” she waved a hand.
“Yeah, that's right. They have a spaceport, but I haven't seen any air traffic of their own. Is it all by land and sea?” Ensign Slatterly murmured thoughtfully.
“Good question,” Shelby said turning back to her staff spook. “You are the person to find the answers,” she said as she uncrossed her arms and walked off.
The ensign pursed her lips and then nodded once. “I guess I've got my marching orders then,” she murmured, glancing at the communication's lieutenant. He nodded once.
]][#]]]{OO}===}==>
“What is the problem?” Shelby demanded. “I thought you were looking forward to doing business with us. With joining the Federation? You certainly seemed interested when you were sending us your advertisements …,” Shelby said. She looked up to Lieutenant Talon. He shrugged helplessly.
For some reason, negotiations had broken down. She'd put Mister Muggs on it, but he'd been told that the leaders wanted to speak directly to her.
“Things change. We just held a vote. It was decided five to four that we will not allow you to land or do business here,” Chief Executive Broken Horn stated flatly.
“Why not?” Shelby asked. “I don't understand.”
“That is none of your concern. Take your infested ships elsewhere,” the Tauren chief executive growled. He started to cough, then recovered.
Shelby blinked then her lips pursed in a thin angry line. It sucked that all she had was an audio to go off of. Her people had pinpointed it to a city that was currently designated as the planetary capital of Trajin Alpha. “Okay, wait, you asked to join the Federation. I'm guessing that changed too?” she demanded.
“Join … oh!” there was a nasty laugh on the other end that broke down into coughs. When the Tauren had recovered, she could hear him get a drink, then set the glass back down. “That was Trajin Baker, the next planet over,” the chief executive rasped in disgust. “We had nothing to do with that.”
Shelby frowned pensively. “Oh.” Apparently, her mission wasn't getting off to a great start she thought.
“What's in it for us?” Broken Horn asked suspiciously.
“We can send you the details,” Fred offered from beside Shelby. She turned to him. He'd taken a shuttle over to her ship to be in on the negotiations.
“I'm not interested in reading a lot of mumbo jumbo with crap buried between the lines in fine print. I am too busy with my duties as they are.”
“We can give you a basic overview, bullet points, and then you can look up particular details as you wish when you wish. There is no time limit on deciding when to join,” Fred said, fighting to keep his voice even and professional and not desperate sounding.
“Still not interested,” the Tauren drawled. “I know there are hidden costs somewhere.”
“The costs aren't hidden; they are spelled out. There are taxes involved of course …,” Fred said.
“Ha! See!” the Tauren accused.
“But that is negotiable and dependent on population and GDP, and you can trade goods for tax credits or get leasing arrangements in lieu of taxes,” Fred said doggedly.
“Still not interested,” the Tauren said dismissively. “Very not interested. Sell your crap to someone else who was born yesterday. We've been fine on our own for centuries. That's how it is going to stay. We look after ourselves.”
“I see. Perhaps your board of directors might want to know their options? Or your population will be interested?” Fred asked.
“Undoubtedly some might. There are some who are stupid enough to fall for anything. But I'm in charge,” the Tauren said in a resentful tone of voice. Fred realized his pitch to the population had just pissed the other man off.
“Okay,” Fred said with a nod. He frowned and then texted to Shelby, “Is he looking for a bribe?” She read it, then shook her head.
“What was that bit about infested ships?” Shelby asked.
“Oh, now you are interested?”
“We have medics on board. We might be able to help,” she said. “I didn't know it was a problem that widespread.”
“Trying to get your foot in the door. Not going to happen lady,” CE Broken Horn said. He coughed for a moment. “The last visitors who came by left and everyone got sick.”
“Everyone?” Shelby asked in alarm. She turned to the com rating on watch. “Every species? Across the planet? Is it fatal?”
“What do you think, lady?!?”
Shelby instantly turned to the A.I.'s avatar. “Contact Doctor Taylor as well as ME Mahoney. Let them know the situation,” she said sternly. The A.I. nodded in response.
“Why? So you can charge us for something? A snake oil cure? It isn't going to happen, lady,” the Tauren said, then started coughing again.
“Our duty is to stop plagues from spreading. To cure them when we can,” Shelby said. “If you can allow our doctors …”
“Not going to happen. What part of no don't you understand, lady? Go. Somewhere …,” he started coughing, then cut the circuit.
“Can we get them back?” Shelby demanded.
“Transmission was terminated at the source, ma'am. I don't know if they are listening or not …,” the comm rating said.
“You can't deter someone who's already made up their mind unfortunately,” Fred said slowly. “What about landing anyway?”
“The landi
ng party would be noticeable. Our shuttles need a strip to land, and they've fouled their spaceports,” Lieutenant Z'k'th'ss'th said. He pulled up an image of a spaceport and showed them the strip. Material was piled up and down the strip. There were also tents. “We have shuttles that can land vertically but that takes fuel. They might also come under hostile fire,” the Naga warned.
“We can't help them,” Shelby said.
“Commodore …” Fred said.
“We can't. Comm, continue to listen to their radio transmissions. Set up a database query for anything about illness, plague, that sort of thing. Have Ensign Slattery make it her priority now—number one priority,” Shelby ordered. “Have everything you find fed to Doctor Taylor and the Mahoney,” she ordered.
“Aye aye, ma’am.”
“Nav, we're going to need to plot a course to the next star system over. Get on that,” she ordered.
“Lieutenant Ming is currently off duty. I will begin the plot and pass it on to her when she comes on duty in an hour, ma'am,” Lieutenant Prometheus stated.
“Understood,” Shelby replied with a nod.
“Great, now I get to break this to my wife,” Fred said. Shelby turned to look at him. “Let's just say she's a bit over being on board,” he said with a grimace.
“Good luck with that. I get to break it to the entire convoy,” she said.
“Can you give me a head start?” he asked. She smiled. “No, I'm serious. Let me get back to my ship and break it to her as gently as I can,” he said, hands together in a praying position.
She snorted. “By now scuttlebutt has it all over this ship and some of the others. I don't know how long you've got, but if you hurry to the boat bay ….”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said as he whirled and took off at a trot. She snorted.
“That's one way to get rid of a diplomat in a hurry. He just shot out of here like his pants were on fire!” Cynthia said admiringly.
“When his wife gets a hold of him, they just might be. At the least, he's going to be sleeping on the floor for a while,” Shelby said, shaking her head in sympathy.
]][#]]]{OO}===}==>
“Are you serious?” Phoebe demanded when she heard the news. It wasn't just catastrophic. “I just got finished picking out my wardrobe! I packed and … you can't be serious!” she said, throwing her hands up in the air in frustration.
“As a heart attack it seems. They don't want us down there. From what we've been hearing, it's just as well.”
“But … but … we … we've been cooped up in these ships too long.”
“Honey, it's not like we didn't say that. They don't care.”
“Well, make them!” she snarled suddenly, making him rear back. “Isn't that your job?” she demanded.
“Making someone see reason is impossible when they aren't willing to listen or negotiate love,” Fred drawled. “Look, there are other planets; this is just one of five in this cluster alone. We'll get it sorted out.”
“More time …,” she shook her head.
“Get used to it. Stop resenting it,” he said.
Her eyes flashed. “Don't tell me how to feel,” she growled.
He sighed and rubbed a frustrated hand over his scalp. “You are right. I'm sorry,” he said.
“What … can't we …?”
“There is no bribing them, no pleading. We'll move on. I suppose it is good that we're finding this out now instead of later. Besides, apparently they've got some sort of plague going on down there,” Fred said, playing his ace.
Her eyes widened comically. “Plague? Did you say plague?”
“Yes. It's been contained to some degree, but …”
She shook her head, rearing back. “No. No way. No, we go somewhere else,” she said emphatically.
“I'm glad you agree,” her husband said with a nod. “I know it's a sacrifice but …”
“Not when it means staying safe! You should have led with that,” she accused. He snorted.
]][#]]]{OO}===}==>
Shelby grimaced as she thought about the long-term problem Alpha's denial had caused. She had her comm section lay a whisker on the buoy she'd left behind to amend her log. She outlined the situation and ordered the ships not to try to make landfall at the planet. They were also instructed not to deploy an ansible platform in orbit. They would have to leave it well outside the heliopause or bring it to one of the other star systems in the cluster.
]][#]]]{OO}===}==>
A week later they made the jump to Baker. Three days later they had crossed the star system to arrive in orbit of the planet. Unfortunately, they got the same results. “This planet is under quarantine. Take yourself elsewhere,” an unidentified Veraxin rasped when her comm section finally made contact.
“This is the Federation naval ship Prometheus. We are aware there is an illness on planet Alpha. We didn't know it spread to you.”
“The last visitors did it to us. It is widespread and the mortality rate is high. There are no cures,” the Veraxin replied. “It has spread across the continent. The last time someone came here we got sick. We don't want or need your kind here.”
“That's a change from what you've been saying earlier,” Shelby said. “We have doctors on board and a full hospital ship. Can we help?”
“No.”
Shelby blinked. When nothing was forthcoming, she cleared her throat. “Hello?”
“The transmission has terminated at the other end, ma'am,” the comm rating reported.
“Okay, so now what?” Cynthia asked.
“We don't go where we're not wanted. Sensors, do we have anything on this illness?” Shelby asked. “I'd rather not expose our people, but I'd like to help if we can.”
“No, ma’am. It isn't talked about much.”
“Okay,” Shelby drawled. “I guess … we're not going to get anything here,” she said. “Comm, keep your ears open. Record everything, especially about this plague.”
“Aye aye, ma’am. Are we really going to leave them like that?”
“Yes. It looks that way,” Shelby said with a shake of her head. “I don't like it anymore than you do, but they have a sovereign right to deny us to land. We have a duty to help the sick,” she said, turning slightly as Doctor Taylor came on the bridge. “But they are refusing treatment,” she said slightly louder so he could hear it.
The doctor slowed when he heard that and then came over to her more circumspectly. “Again?” he asked. “Don't these people know we're here to help?” he demanded.
“Apparently not. They see outsiders as the problem,” Shelby said. “We have no track record of helping people so we have no reputation.”
“A reputation has to be started somewhere. What was Widgeon saying during that poker game the other night? Precedence?” the doctor asked. Shelby nodded. “Can't …”
Shelby held up a hand. “Doc, if you think you can convince them, give them a try,” she said, motioning to the comm section. “But I'm warning you; they aren't willing to listen. You as a doctor know if your patient refuses to help themselves you can't get far.”
He nodded grimly but went over to the comm section to try anyway. She nodded as she watched him go, expecting nothing less.
She grimaced after a moment and then turned to the ship's A.I. “Lieutenant, contact Lieutenant Ming, instruct her that we'll need her services again sooner rather than later unfortunately. We'll need her to plot a course to the next stop,” she said heavily. “Hopefully, we'll have better luck there,” she said.
The A.I. nodded somberly.
Chapter 19
Their next stop in the cluster was the binary star system featuring three inhabited planets. Like the inhabited planets in the other parts of the cluster each of the planets had been terraformed. Fortunately, there was no sign of any illness in their radio broadcasts. Lieutenant Jardin discovered that no ships had visited the binary star system in nearly five years. It was an interesting correlation to Doctor Taylor and the others.
“I
think we've got a potential plague ship on our hands. They may be carriers of something, and they are spreading it to those who have no immunity,” Doctor Taylor said, opening the staff meeting up and setting the agenda.
“It's catchy but they are immune? Not good,” Lieutenant L'n'v'll said, signaling first-degree concern.
“No. No, it isn't,” Shelby agreed grimly. She had an idea on what it might be but wasn't ready to voice it just yet. It sounded paranoid in her head. She kept reminding herself about past history and that paranoids had real enemies … but as the commander of the mission she had to keep everything on the table.
“Typhoid Mary on an entire ship? What could affect so many different species?” the doctor demanded. “We're getting reports of it hitting the brains and central nervous systems … but across so many species?” He shook his head in frustration.
“Not my area of expertise, Doc,” Lieutenant Sulistyo said, shooting a concerned look to the others. “You don't know?”
“Without samples? Without observations, not knowing the full symptoms, how it progresses … doing any sort of diagnosis remotely is impossible!” the doctor said, clearly frustrated with the situation.
The chief engineer sat back and plucked at his lower lip with one long finger for a moment. It might have looked comical if not for the serious nature of the situation. “Okay. You can rule some stuff out based on what Ensign Slattery and Lieutenant Jardin has passed on to you, right?” the Neoape asked. The doctor nodded. “Okay. So, start there. Start with a suspect list. We'll try to put you in contact with the locals.” He turned to look at the communication's head. The human nodded.
“I'm concerned about spreading the disease. The native's desire to keep people away is good, even though they are doing something right for the wrong reasons,” Doctor Taylor said.
“We're going to have to drop buoy satellites warning ships who come to visit the planet of the plague and its symptoms and potential implication of passing it on to others,” Lieutenant Jardin said. The XO nodded. “We're not going to make any friends on the ground, but if the spacers heed the warning, they might live. If they keep it from moving on, maybe we can contain it.”