~
The Raians watched the crew of the Mary over a camera pickup, from another part of the ship. On the Raian bridge, K’silk stood over a monitor which showed them, and another monitor which showed the interrogation of Angel, the last to be interviewed. Two other officers hovered about him, also watching the monitors.
A tone from a console was answered by one of the officers. After listening to a report, he approached K’silk. “First Officer, our examination team reports no sign of any biological agent aboard the Oan freighter.”
“Interesting,” K’silk said. “It seems our reports were inaccurate.”
“But the freighter was sent to Coel, and given a new assignment there, as we had ascertained,” the junior officer stated. “And the First Officer carries our psychoactive virus.”
“Yes, yes, I could see it within her, too,” K’silk replied impatiently. He continued to watch Kestral and Jones, seated together on the bench, speaking in low tones to each other. “I could see it, much more potently, in the technical expert as well. Apparently the First Officer has infected him with it.”
In fact, all of the Raians could detect the virus through their sensory systems: The virus was in fact physically irritating to them, much the equivalent of a high-pitched siren to a human ear; and although the amount of virus in Kestral’s system was very small, barely detectable, and apparently too little to bother a Raian, proximity to Jones had proven to be highly uncomfortable to them. K’silk turned away from the monitor and faced his junior officers. “Curious that she has not infected the rest of the crew, or that she seems to show none of the effects of the virus herself.”
“It seems to be a very small trace of the strain within her,” the other officer commented. “Perhaps it was simply not enough to cause a biological reaction within her.”
“Perhaps not,” K’silk agreed. “Although it does seem to be stronger within the technician, and he is not reacting as expected either. The virus seems to be reacting strangely within his body. I’m sure you all noticed the odd sensation emanating from him.”
“It was… highly unusual,” one officer agreed. “Very painful. I don’t believe there is any record of our virus causing that effect within Oans.”
“Perhaps,” K’silk suggested, “the virus has somehow mutated within the First Officer, and the new mutated strain now works upon the technical expert. Perhaps it is something else.”
“There was one other thing,” the junior officer stated. “In their medical facility, there was a device that can grow and support viral cultures. It could be used to breed viral agents. It was disguised to appear as a portable power source.”
“Yes?”
“However,” the officer continued, “no viral agents were discovered within it, or anywhere else on the ship.”
“I see.” K’silk considered a moment. “Disable the device.”
“And then what?”
K’silk barely paused. “Let them go. With the technical expert fully infected, the rest of the crew should soon contract the virus from him. Based on our previous experiences, we can expect them all to be dead within a few days. And if any of them hold out longer, they will infect the entire population of New Paropolis once they reach it. That will certainly slow the Oan march across the galaxy. Something our Leadership will certainly not object to.”
~
Moments later, the door to the holding room was opened. A guard motioned for Kestral and her crew to come out, and they did so, one by one. With Kestral in the lead, they fell silently in step behind a Raian soldier, who escorted them down a corridor, the guard bringing up the rear.
“Where are we going?” Kestral asked. But the soldier likely did not possess a translator, and so did not understand her. The soldier made no attempt to reply, at any rate. Sarander was behind Kestral, followed by Tirri. Tirri occasionally glanced down at Sarander’s pocket, idly wondering how fast he could take out his homemade stun device and use it if necessary. She even considered how fast she could snatch it out of his pocket herself. But she made no move for it.
Along the way, they met another soldier that was standing in an adjacent corridor with Angel. Angel saw the procession and asked, “What now?” The lead soldier continued on down the corridor, and the soldier beside Angel motioned for Angel to fall in line with the others. Angel did as he was bidden, and stepped into the line just ahead of Mark, who was at the rear of the group.
As they walked, Angel turned and asked Mark, “Does anyone know what’s going on?”
“Not really,” Mark replied.
Angel mulled over the answer for a moment. “Do you think they’re going to kill us?”
“I doubt it,” Mark replied.
“Why?”
“Because,” he said, “unless I miss my guess, they’ve just brought us back to the Mary.”
“Huh?” Angel craned his neck past the others, and saw the airlock that led to the Mary just ahead. The lead soldier stopped and stepped aside at the airlock, leaving the path to the airlock free. Kestral regarded him for only a moment, before she started through the airlock, followed by the others.
They stepped into the foyer of the Mary, and no sooner had they done so when the Raian hatch started to close behind them. Mark, the last one in, responded by closing their hatch as quickly. Once it was secured, they all breathed a sigh of relief.
Kestral immediately called out, “Mary! Scan for any foreign objects left aboard or attached to the hull by the Raians.” She motioned for the others to wait, and listened for the ship’s reply.
After a full minute, the ship replied: “Ship’s internal and external scans completed. There are no foreign objects left on or in the ship.”
“Systems status report?”
“All ship’s systems are set on automatic and all functioning nominally. No settings were changed while the crew was absent.”
“That’s what I want to hear,” Kestral said. “Mark, fire up the engines and get us going. Same course and speed, like nothing happened. They expect us to clear out quickly, so clear us out.”
“You bet!” Mark replied, already running for the bridge.
“Everyone else, go double-check your areas,” Kestral told them. “Just in case Mary missed something. Call in if you find anything unusual.”
The others headed off, leaving Moamet Jones standing there with Kestral. For a moment, she stood there regarding him silently. Jones returned her gaze, his face saddened. “Carolyn, I’m sorry this happened…”
“No, don’t be,” Kestral cut him off. “After all, we got through it. The plan worked.”
“Apparently so,” Jones nodded. “Carolyn… did you notice, when the Raians were near me…”
“They seemed nervous or something?” she finished his thought.
Jones nodded. “I wondered if it was just my imagination. But you saw it, too. What could it have meant?”
“I don’t know,” Kestral replied. “Maybe whatever data they had on us didn’t include a guest, and they were surprised or alarmed at seeing you.”
“I suppose that’s possible.”
“I hope it’s accurate,” Kestral said. “And hopefully that will be the only bad scare we get on this trip.”
At that moment, Mark’s voice came over the ship’s intercom. “Raian ship is detached. Tesser drive is warming up, and we’ll be going to C in a minute.”
Kestral nodded. “And not a minute too soon.”
11: The Incubator
Kestral, Tirri and Moamet Jones stood in the ship’s infirmary an hour later. They were surrounding the diagnostic table in the center of the room. Kestral’s face was one of deep concern. Moamet Jones’ face was a rigid mask. Tirri looked from one to the other nervously. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I was so busy checking the cargo bays that I only just got here a few minutes ago and found it.”
Kestral nodded absently as she stared down at the table. Atop it, was the silver case that contained the incubation device Moamet Jones was transporting to Deep Abi
gnon.
“You’re sure the Raians did this?”
Tirri nodded. “I had Mary analyze the burns and melted areas. She confirms burn signatures that are common residues of Raian hand weaponry. And it’s clearly not random. They intentionally fried the control components, and the inner chambers.”
“They opened it?” Kestral looked to Jones, but he returned her look impassively, and said nothing. “Any sign of biological residue?”
Tirri shook her head. “There’s no sign of anything left inside.”
Kestral’s shoulders visibly stiffened. A moment later, she muttered a sharp oath under her breath, turned, and stalked out of the infirmary. Tirri and Jones watched her go, then Tirri turned to Jones. “I’m so sorry,” she said. “Maybe if I had found it sooner, we could have salvaged something from it…”
Jones shook his head, still looking in the direction Kestral had gone. “Probably not. I wouldn’t blame yourself for it. It wasn’t your fault.”
“So much for our big secret mission,” Tirri added, badly feigning disappointment. “We went through all of this for nothing.”
Jones finally turned and looked at her. There was a momentary flash of… something in his eyes, something Tirri couldn’t read. But it was gone an instant later, and his face was impassive again. Without another word, he turned and headed after Kestral.
Kestral had headed in the direction of the common. Jones strode down the corridor, reaching the common, and realizing there was no sign of her there. He continued on, reaching the T intersection that led to the quarters, and rounded the turn.
He was brought up immediately by the sight of Kestral, standing in the center of the corridor just past the bend. He stopped just short of running headlong into her, and gasped in surprise.
Kestral glared at Jones. “Why aren’t we dead?”
~
“Ordinarily, I enjoy a good mystery,” Kestral was saying as she paced about her quarters. Jones sat in a chair, watching her. “They can be great mental exercise. But I admit, I get a lot less enjoyment out of them when my life hangs in the balance.”
“There was no danger to the crew from the incubator,” Jones told her.
“Oh, really?” Kestral stopped pacing, and faced Jones. “The Raian Captain told me that, if they found any signs of the biological materials they were looking for—the antivirus cultures—they would kill us.” She paused and studied Jones’ reaction to her statement. He returned her gaze silently. “So they found the incubator,” she continued, “and destroyed it. Seems they found what they were looking for. So why didn’t the Raians kill us?”
She looked to Jones again. “Why do I get the impression that you’re reluctant to discuss this?”
Jones still did not speak, but his expression seemed to soften a bit. Kestral watched him, nodded, and resumed pacing.
“If they destroyed the incubator, it’s a sign they had the goods on us. They didn’t sabotage the ship. And it’s too difficult to intercept and destroy a ship traveling at C. So they’ve honestly let us go. That’s the strange part: Not killing us will allow us to reach a port, and report on what happened to the Rangers. But they’re apparently not too worried about that.”
Kestral stopped pacing, and put a hand to her chin. “I can only think of one reason, then, that they wouldn’t have killed us outright: They let us go because they expect us to die on our own.” Her eyes bored into Jones, who fairly flinched under her withering gaze. “And probably more significant, they likely expect our deaths to do some damage to someone other than us, or it would have made more sense to kill us themselves. I have Mary doing intense scanning of the ship, searching for any signs of something the Raians left us. So far, she hasn’t found anything. Not even stray biological materials aboard ship. So, at least so far, it appears that we are not a berserker plague ship.”
Kestral watched Jones closely as she continued. “Now, it’s possible the Raians were mistaken, and thought we were all already infected by the berserker. But I’m not contagious, and none of us is exhibiting the signs of berserker madness. And this is where I hit my brick wall,” she told Jones. “Because I obviously don’t have all the pieces I need to complete this puzzle.”
She continued to watch Jones, but he refused to speak. After a long, drawn-out silence, Kestral turned away. “Fine. The Raians guessed wrong, but they also destroyed our reason to go to Deep Abignon. So the mission is off. I’ll order Mark to keep course for New Paropolis—”
“No.”
“Aha!” Kestral spun around swiftly, pointing an accusing finger at Jones. “You do still have cultures on board! I knew you were holding out on me!”
“We still have to go to Deep Abignon,” Jones stated flatly.
Kestral considered a moment. “The incubator was a blind, all along. It never had a culture in it.” She waited, and after a pause, Jones shook his head. Instead of satisfaction, Kestral’s face darkened. “You didn’t trust me enough to tell me about a second culture hidden away? Did you think you were protecting me? Or did the Rangers order you to keep it from me?”
“Carolyn,” Jones began, finally standing up and approaching her, “this is difficult…”
“No, it isn’t,” Kestral told him. “Just tell me. Is another antivirus culture here?”
“Yes.”
“Hidden in one of the crates? In your quarters?”
The corner of Jones’ mouth exhibited a tic of a smile, then subsided. “Not at this moment, no.”
Kestral’s face wrinkled up in confusion. “Outside the ship?”
“No, it’s definitely inside—”
“Where, then!” she demanded, grabbing him by his shoulders and pulling him close. “Where is it?”
Jones did not immediately respond. Instead, his eyes wandered away, avoiding hers while he gathered strength. When they finally came back up and locked with Kestral’s, his expression said volumes.
Kestral was taken aback. “It’s on you.” Almost involuntarily, her eyes ran over him, and back up. “Something implanted within you? A mini-incubator?”
“Not exactly,” Jones replied slowly. “I don’t need a device inside me.”
Kestral’s grip on his shoulders relaxed. “I think I’m at that brick wall again.”
“Actually,” Jones told her, “you’ve broken through. You just haven’t recognized what you see at the other side. I do have the antivirus cultures inside me,” Jones said. “I am the incubator.”
Kestral blinked, and her hands slipped off of his shoulders. But she did not back away, nor did he make a move to put distance between them. “Tell me,” she said.
Moamet Jones shrugged. “Our doctors guess that it has something to do with my own unexpected and unique natural healing abilities, combined with the genetic manipulations given to Coelians to allow them to survive on our planet, but they’re not really sure. At any rate, it was recently discovered that my body can be exposed to any virus, however virulent, and manufacture a sort of universal antivirus to it, without danger to me. I have been the subject of two solid years of tests… in fact, this trip is the first I’ve taken outside of the research facility since I went in.”
He turned and took a step away from Kestral. “When we contacted the Galarchy with our findings, they saw an immediate use for my… talent. They realized that I might be able to create an antivirus for the berserker, something they had never been able to accomplish. My universal antivirus would be one that the Oan population could all be inoculated with, and thereby neutralize the berserker threat. I am going to a real incubator, already waiting on Deep Abignon, which will mass-produce the antivirus from my blood.”
“Your people,” Kestral ventured, “invented the incubator story to create a false target, in case you were intercepted.”
“Exactly,” Jones admitted. “I was designed to hide in plain sight.”
Something else occurred to Kestral then. “The Raians… they were agitated whenever they saw you. We know so little about their sensory
systems. They must have somehow sensed the virus within you. Possibly within both of us!” Her mouth set angrily. “They assumed that, between the two of us, we would infect everyone on New Paropolis once we arrived. That’s why they let us go.”
“That makes sense,” Jones agreed.
“But you’re not contagious, either, right?” Kestral asked. “Otherwise, you’d’ve infected my crew by now.”
“That’s right,” Jones confirmed. “I do not spread the viruses I contract. In fact, it’s entirely possible that they might get the antivirus from me, through casual contact.”
“We should do them that favor, at least,” Kestral told him. “After all, it’s the least you can do for them, after what they’ve been…”
Kestral’s voice suddenly trailed off. Her eyes darted about as she considered something else. Then she looked at Jones, her eyes significantly widened. “Wait. As far as I’ve been told, the berserker virus does not exist in an intact form in any of the Galarchy’s secure facilities, including Deep Abignon.”
Upon hearing her statement, Jones’ face fell again. “That is correct.”
“You had to get the virus from somewhere.” Her face darkened again. “You thought you’d obtain a sample while on Coel, but that opportunity didn’t pan out. So someone diverted your original means of transport, in order to make sure the Mary was the only ship available to get you to Deep Abignon. Then you’d have another chance to get your sample.”
She stepped closer to him, eyes smoldering. “Casual contact?”
“Carolyn—”
She hit him. Not an open-handed slap, but a clenched fist that snapped out, connected with his jaw, and sent him sprawling. He tumbled backward, upended a nearby chair, and landed in a heap on the deck.
Jones struggled to lever himself upright, and shook his head to clear it. “It wasn’t like that—”
“It was exactly like that,” Kestral snapped.
“No,” Jones protested. “Carolyn—”
“Get out,” Kestral said acidly.
Slowly, Moamet Jones picked himself up. “You know me.”
“No, I don’t! Get out!”
The Kestral Voyages: My Life, After Berserker Page 14