"He got away with it, too. He left the Confederacy just before he was charged. Looks like we know where he went."
"What are you thinking?" Two lines had appeared between her eyebrows and her lips were parted, just a little.
"You know the Ptorix abandoned this planet thirty years ago?"
She nodded. "Yes. I was told silly stories about karteks getting everybody and some sort of jewel deep in the mine that irradiated everyone. I also heard the mine was just not economically viable. And that’s actually true. But it was a virus."
"You know that? How?"
His contact on Chollarc had mentioned in passing that the Confederacy believed that a disease wiped out the population on Tisyphor but no proof had ever been found.
She sighed and her chest heaved in a too-interesting way. "When van Tongeren brought me to this apartment and I saw what they’d done, I thought I’d take a look around, see if there was anything in the Ptorix cupboards and things. They’d been emptied but I found a hidden compartment in the closet."
She went into the bedroom and returned carrying a small, square book, its covers decorated in swirls of red and gold.
"I found this in the closet, along with a couple of books and a ghabra; it’s a musical instrument. They must have been there since the day the place was abandoned." She licked her lips, eyes glistening. "Only the planet wasn’t abandoned. They all died. This is the last mine manager’s diary. It’s all there. When they first noticed the illness, what happened. Doctors came from the Khophirate but they died, too."
Saahren felt cold. It made sense. An unstoppable virus that killed Ptorix. The Ptorix isolated the place and kept the disease secret, no doubt fearing that someone might come and seek the virus out. And now someone was possibly doing just that.
A resurrected biological weapon that could devastate any Ptorix planet. He could say honestly that he wouldn’t use anything like that. Although he wasn’t so certain about a few of the other admirals. Indiscriminate, devastating, uncontrollable. The nutters of the GPR… oh, yes, he could see them using something like this in a heartbeat. If these people were to find that virus, the business on Brjyl would become a playground spat in comparison.
Sure, maybe it would work for a time. Until the Ptorix realized what they were up against and used environmental suits, or found a way of killing the disease. The story of Tisyphor would be somewhere in the Khophirate’s archives. They’d soon realize. And even with the superior Confederacy Starfleet, what hope would they have? The Khophirate was just too vast, too many planets over too much distance and the survivors would come roaring back, hell-bent on vengeance, no doubt led by the human-hating Ptorix fundamentalists. The human race would be lucky to survive.
"Does it say where the virus originated?"
She shook her head. "Just that the first person to die was stung by a thranx. I showed this to Jarrad. This is how Fyysor describes the disease."
She flicked through the pages, from the back, as he saw it, from bottom to top, and found a page covered in ornate Ptorix script.
She read, slowly, translating as she went. ‘The first sign of the illness seems to be a cough. About three days later, the soreness begins and with it, the pain. Breathing is difficult, the patient vomits ichor. It is as if they dissolve from within. From that time, death comes quickly.’
"Jarrad said it made sense, that it could have been a cross-over from a thranx to the Ptorix."
"Jarrad?" A boyfriend? He had competition?
"Jarrad Korns. He was a researcher here. We got friendly but he left a little while ago."
Good. The twinge of jealousy settled.
"I was told in the orientation that thranxes kill with their sting, which injects a solvent into the victim’s body. They suck the dissolved liquid with a proboscis, leaving an empty husk."
She shuddered. "It’s revolting, isn’t it? But I suppose that’s how the Tors eat. They sort of suck up mush through their eating mouths. Jarrad said they were experimenting, trying to find helpful drugs based on the venom. It’s hard to imagine, really."
She was so naïve. It was almost a shame to destroy her illusion. "Allysha, I think these people are trying to find the virus."
She stared up at him, worried, unhappy and so very vulnerable. He wanted to kiss her, comfort her. "But why? Why would you want to find something like that?"
"To use it as a biological weapon."
Her jaw dropped, lips parted, eyes widened. "Oh… no. That’s…"
"Terrible. Yes."
She was silent for a moment, unmoving. "Would they really, actually use something like that?"
"Some people would. Extremists who hate the Ptorix."
Her face clouded. "Like van Tongeren."
"Yes. Will you help me to get into the medical center?" he said.
"Of course. I hate this place. I hate these people." She rubbed a hand over her mouth. She looked like a hunted animal, wary, skittish, ready to run. "I feel so… like I’m being used."
She sat very close to him, her thigh almost touching his. Could he risk a kiss? Would that be too forward? He touched her shoulder. "We’ll do something about it. I need to think about this, consider the outcomes. But I’m pleased to know I have an ally."
She smiled at him and warmth stole back into his heart. He checked his tablet. "There’s nobody on duty at the medical center now. Can you get me into the lab?"
"Yes. I suppose I’d better ‘disappear’ you first. I’ll set your status to being here." She giggled. "That’ll keep them guessing. If anybody notices at this hour of the night."
He watched her work, half an eye on his own status on the tablet, registered as here.
"Okay, done," she said.
He walked to the door and down the stairs to the corridor and checked his own whereabouts again. Up there. Amazing. Down here the mine slept. No movement, no sound. The guard who had taken over from him sat in the control room. He and Allysha slipped through the deserted passages to the medical center. The lights flashed on in an empty room.
She sat down at the reception desk and activated her device. Her eyes seemed almost to glaze over. Her whole body froze; no, froze was wrong; became still, as if she wasn’t there. Like that time when Emment had asked her a question in the control room. Minutes passed and then she came back. He couldn’t think of any other word for it.
"Okay. We can go in."
"There’s nobody there?"
She shook her head.
The door slid aside. Pistol in hand, he eased himself into the next room.
Lights had come on. White benches on two walls reflected in the gleaming tiles of the floor. Above them, glass cabinets held dishes and test tubes, labeled bottles and packages. A large microscope stood on a stand. A holovid unit hung on the wall between the benches. Clean, antiseptic, neat.
"Close the door, Allysha."
She activated the mechanism. The door slid silently into place.
"Something smells," she said, sniffing. "Something putrid. Just a little bit of a whiff."
Saahren moved to his left toward another closed door. He opened it gingerly, keeping himself out of the entrance. Lights came on. His nostrils twitched. That smell again, a little stronger, a little more fetid. The room was like a holding cell for animals. A central corridor ending in a very solid door separated two lines of cages, all empty. Where might the door lead? And what had been in the cages, assuming they were part of the laboratory? Karteks? Thranxes?
A strangled cry from Allysha jolted him. His heart thudding, he returned to the lab. She stared at the holovid’s screen, her face contorted in horror and disgust.
"Look at this. They did experiments."
She jumped back to an earlier point in the images.
The cages he’d just seen had held Ptorix. The data were collected in a series of case studies with daily recordings. Eighty-seven case studies, all with a different victim. Each Ptorix had been injected with something and then monitored daily for any changes. Most
were unaffected. He wondered what Rostich and his people had done with them after the experiment finished. They’d be dead, of course, no doubt dumped in the jungle.
The last case study was longer than the others. The Ptorix, a well-built male with the dark blue fur of the lower classes, seemed well enough. He stood, moved around, ate in their disgusting way, sucking up mush through his proboscis, slept. Then on the third day the Ptorix began to cough, a harsh, wheezing sound coming from his speaking mouth. A day later the Ptorix’s fur darkened, his eyes dimmed and he seeped ichor from his mouth and proboscis, seeming to shrink in his robe. His screams of agony set Saahren’s teeth on edge. The victim lay on the ground, blackened tentacles twitching. Finally, even they were still.
Allysha stood beside him, her arms wrapped around herself.
"This is awful," she whispered. Her body shook.
He slid an arm around her shoulders, holding her tightly against him. "Turn it off."
She flung her arms around him and sobbed into his chest.
"Looks like they found the virus," he said into her hair.
"Yes. Because of me."
"What do you mean, because of you?" Brad said.
She wiped her face with her sleeve. Her fault, she’d handed it to them. She pushed the words out, forced them out of her mouth. "The experimenter’s name was Korns. The notes say he developed a culture from saliva. He and I were… friends. The only person here I could talk to at all. I showed him the last mine manager’s ghabra and he took it away to sterilize it." Tears welled again. "He said it might contain the virus. Looks like it did."
She struggled against the tears but it was too awful. In her mind’s eye she could see the scenes as Fyysor painted them; the images from the experiments gave them three dimensional color. Her fault. She’d been too trusting, so naïve. She flung her arms around Brad and sobbed into his shirt. He stroked her hair and let her cry. She straightened up. This wasn’t helping.
He pushed her gently away so he could see her face. "All cried out?"
She nodded.
"We need to think, decide how best to act. Come on, I’ll take you back to your room."
One arm around her waist, he led her back to the main drive. His warm fingers held her close to his side, a pillar of sanity. She felt protected, secure with him. She went up the stairs in front of him and into her room.
"Will you be all right?" he said.
"Yes. I’m sorry to be such a girl. I’m glad to have a friend." She put a hand on his shoulder and kissed his cheek.
The look in his eyes was unmistakable. Not now, Brad; not yet. She stepped away from him and he swallowed. She wasn’t doing this very well, not very well at all. "I feel so bad about this. If somebody uses that virus…"
"It would mean war with the Ptorix. We have to stop it."
Hope shone a chink of light into the veil of darkness enveloping her. "How?"
"Well, there are explosives here. You have the skill to destroy their data. I can set explosives to blow up the lab. We can take shardite from the secret warehouse."
They could, yes. "I can reset the inventory so nobody will know."
"Yes. I thought you could. We’ll also have to steal a ship to escape."
"You can fly a ship?"
"Yes. It’s not hard, my love. In fact a ship’s information system does most of the work. But it must recognize the pilot to obey instructions so I’ll need for you to work out how to do that, how to give me authority to command the ship."
My love. She’d let that one go by for now. "Where do I find out how to do that?"
"The military InfoDroid," he said.
"Of course." She felt better already at the prospect of doing something useful. "When do we move? How long have I got?"
"We’ll have tomorrow to prepare and tomorrow night we’ll make a move."
"Where to from here?"
"We’ll head for Chollarc. I have a ship there. Then we can head on to Malmos and get married."
Her heart jolted. "Married?"
"Yes. I love you."
The very notion took her breath away. No question, no argument. For Brad Stone, it seemed, one led to the other. "You’ve only known me for five minutes."
"I fell in love with you the first time I set eyes on you. I feel like I’ve waited for you all my life."
Oh, buckrats. "Marriage isn’t such a great thing."
"It’s a public statement, a commitment."
He couldn’t be serious. But he was. He spoke with absolute certainty. He hadn’t even asked her, as if there could only be one answer. She wasn’t too sure she liked that. She hadn’t even had sex with him. It might be awful. Mightn’t it?
"It’s too soon for me, Brad. Much too sudden. I like you. I like you lots. But marriage?"
I need time to end the last one, her conscious mind screamed. Sean. What about his debt if she disappeared? No, that should be all right. She’d make sure she finished the system for van Tongeren so he’d get his payment. This way she could leave and let him do whatever he wanted. And so could she. Love. The very thought stirred up a veritable flock of butterflies in her stomach. She could so easily fall in love with Brad Stone. But then, she’d thought she was in love with Sean. No, no, back off quickly, Allysha. Love is for suckers.
Brad’s arm tightened around her. "You’re going to make me wait?"
Maybe she should tell him about Sean. But then, what would he think? That she was cheating? Oh, buckrats. Whatever she had with Brad, she wanted to keep it. And after all, the most important thing was going to be to stop that virus. Maybe she’d keep Sean to herself for a while, until they were off the planet, at least.
"I’m not ready to talk about marriage, Brad. Not by a long shot. Let’s take one step at a time."
"Yes, of course. You’re right." He swallowed. "I’ll… I’ll see you in the control room, this evening."
"Goodnight, Brad."
One last hungry stare and he turned and went out the door.
The room felt empty. Call him back; she could still call him back. She took a step, reached out to the door control. No. She turned around and leant her back against the cool metal. She should go to bed, get some rest.
She felt so stupid, so unutterably naïve. Jarrad had seemed so nice. He’d used her. This horrible virus was out there and it was all her fault. Misery rose, a cloying fog in her soul. Her fault. Around her the curved, whitewashed walls of the bedroom mocked her. She’d seen through the whitewash to the reality underneath. But Jarrad had fooled her, used her up and spat her out. She shook her shoulders, trying to shrug off this feeling of helplessness. She wasn’t helpless. She and Brad would end this. And then… then she’d go home. Or maybe not. Oh, buckrats. Too much to think about, too many choices.
The day crawled past. Saahren spent a few hours in the staff gymnasium lifting weights, running, using the exercise machines and thinking of Allysha. He showered and spent most of the rest of the time lying on his bed, dreaming of her. He couldn’t get her out of his head. She was beautiful. Soft and warm and delicious. He remembered her scent, the feel of her in his arms; even if she was sobbing. He toyed with the idea of going to find her, to see what she was doing but it would have been wrong. She’d be in the control room. They couldn’t have talked, anyway. And she would be busy finding out all she could about how to activate a K-400 interstellar cruiser like the one in the mountain’s hangar. A day or so to Chollarc, pick up his ship and head back to Malmos. One step at a time, she’d said. He’d accept that. But she would be his wife.
Except she had a problem with Admiral Saahren. Chohzu the Destroyer. She’d been so vehement about it. He still didn’t know why. Somehow last night hadn’t seemed like the right time. It would have to wait until they were off this planet.
The numbers on the chrono crawled by. With an hour to go before his shift, he went along to the tavern to buy himself some lunch. The same bouncy music played but at least not as loud as in the evenings. The barmaid was deep in flirtati
on with a miner, whose nose was just about in her cleavage. She dragged herself away from him to serve Saahren.
"A burger with the lot and a glass of citrose. I’ll be outside."
He chose a table under a tree. Another hour. He glanced around at the sound of a girl’s giggle and turned away again. That blond fellow had one of the girls virtually crawling all over him. He was certainly a hit with the women, that one.
The barmaid brought him his food. He paid her, adding a generous tip. She fluttered her lashes at him. "I’m free in a couple of hours."
"I’m not."
He bit into the burger and she flounced away with a disappointed pout. Food finished, he returned to his quarters, put on his uniform and went off to the mine.
Allysha was still at her desk in the control room when he arrived. His heart surged at the sight of her but he made himself ignore her and listen to Bakram’s hand-over. They’d caught one of the deep miners trying to steal some altari stone dust. Nothing else had happened. Bakram wished him a good afternoon and headed off.
"Hello, Brad. How are you?"
The voice in his head almost startled him. Allysha. How had she obtained the access code for his implant? He looked at her through the partition, at the slight curve of her lips, the sparkle in her green eyes. Silly question. She was incredible; absolutely incredible.
He concentrated, activating the reply. "Does this work both ways?" He thought the words.
"Of course. But only if we’re near each other. I thought it might be useful."
"It certainly is."
"Have you done your homework on the K-400?"
"Uh-huh. I’m ready to go on that. Have you picked an explosive?"
"No. We’ll have to do that together. Can you ‘disappear’ me at twenty-five hundred?"
"Sure. Meet you in the store room." She rose to her feet.
"I love you."
She hesitated. Would she say it? I love you, too?
"See you soon."
And she was gone, out through the door into the tunnel. He sighed, a tingle of disappointment in his heart. But this was meant to be, it had to be. It was as if destiny had organized for his idiotic sacking just so he could be here to meet her. His mother would have agreed with that hypothesis, even if she wouldn’t approve of him marrying an outsider. Well, that was too bad.
Nebula Nights: Love Among The Stars Page 225