by Addison Gunn
“Miller?” Hsiung grimaced as she was stripped of her sidearm and rifle.
“Just play along for now,” he said.
Miller felt a hand shove him from behind, and the four of them, surrounded and separated by the crowd, were escorted forward toward the hydroponic pool at the bow.
Miller was reminded of the time he and du Trieux were captured by the Archaeans. His thoughts flashed to Samantha, but quickly came back to the present. He tried to remind himself these people were not Infected. They were human; there was no hive-mind, none of that weird group violence.
At least, he hoped they weren’t.
Once at the pool, the crowd wheeled to the left and into another group, which parted to reveal a tall gray-haired man in medical scrubs and a surgical mask.
Squinting at them, he asked, “Who the hell are you?”
“They’re from the Tevatnoa. They asked to speak to the science officer,” said the woman beside Miller.
The gray-haired man raised a bushy eyebrow. “Well, that’s rich.”
“We’re not here to cause trouble—” Miller began.
The tall man put a hand on his hip. “Sneaking aboard a ship in the middle of the night, fully armed and wearing tactical gear? Shouldn’t you open with ‘This isn’t what it looks like’?”
Miller ran his tongue across his teeth. “No, sir. We’re here on unofficial business.”
“Unofficial business with the very same science officer we’ve been trying to contact for the last seventy-two hours?” the man asked. Obvious disdain dripped from his words. “I suppose that’s a coincidence?”
Miller blinked. “You can’t get inside the lab?”
The tall man rubbed his eye wearily. “You’re not here to evacuate the science crew, are you?”
Morland’s mouth gaped open. “Why would we—?”
Miller raised a hand and cut him off. “The Tevatnoa has been trying to communicate with the Penelope for more than three days, sir. We’ve been tasked to locate and negotiate with the chief science officer for the release of medical research aboard.”
“What the what?” The woman holding Miller’s rifle gaped.
The tall man seemed to understand, however. He nodded slowly, then waved his hands at the crowd surrounding Miller and his team. “Give them their weapons back,” he said. “They’re after the same thing we are.”
The crowd grudgingly complied.
Miller snapped his sidearm back into place as the tall man approached.
“I’m Taylor,” he said.
“Miller,” he replied.
Neither offered to shake hands.
“Why are communications down?” Miller asked.
“Come with me. You should speak with the captain.”
Taylor led the team upstairs and toward the bridge. They passed a crowd of passengers guarding the crew, who’d been bound and gagged with duct tape, bed sheets and towels. Slumped against the walls like prisoners of war, they saw Miller and the team and started thrashing and straining, shouting into their gags. Their efforts were met with slaps and kicks from the passengers, which instantly silenced them.
Miller grimaced. Nothing came easily, did it? A simple snatch-and-grab, and now he was up to his eyeballs in a mutiny. What had come first, the communications blackout or the mutiny? He supposed it didn’t matter.
Past a sundeck and two perfectly fine-looking communications arrays, they entered the bridge unhindered. The captain sat in his chair, arms bound behind his back, ankles duct-taped together. There was a bloody bump by his temple. Seeing Miller and the rest of Cobalt, the grizzled man’s face reddened, then paled.
“Thank God,” he sighed. “Are you from S-Y?”
“We are,” Miller said. “What happened here?”
The captain set his jaw, then swallowed thickly. “Outbreak,” he started. “First in the lower levels, then all over. We tried to quarantine, but it was too late. There wasn’t enough medicine, people started dying. The rest got scared. A group of them stormed the lab and killed one of the techs. We fought to get them out, but then Dr. Dalton shut us out and barred the door, and now nobody can get in.”
“And the mutiny?”
“Right after that.”
“What about communications?”
“They won’t let me answer,” the captain said, nodding toward Taylor and the other passengers with him.
Miller turned on them. “Two passengers aboard the Minerva’s Wand starved to death because this ship didn’t send them their rations. Do you understand what’s happening? You can’t shut down this ship’s operations. Who’s manning the engine room? Who’s in charge of deck security, or keeping the storm petrels at bay? They’ll nest in the exhaust and invite predators; did you know any of this?”
“I’m sorry to hear about the Minerva,” Taylor said, without a hint of sincerity. “But we got problems of our own here. He didn’t tell you half of it.”
The captain’s face flushed again.
“Tell him how you locked down the bottom two floors.”
“That was to prevent the spread of the...”
“Bullshit!” Taylor seethed, pointing his finger at the captain and spitting in his face. “You locked us down there, then stopped sending rations. Not everyone down there had the disease. You condemned us all to death, and when that didn’t work you tried to starve us.”
“The rations staff got sick,” the captain said. “Production slowed when the hydroponics pool on the top deck was contaminated by salt water during the storm and the filtration system broke down. We weren’t trying to starve anyone!”
“Why didn’t you contact the Tevatnoa for assistance?” Miller asked him.
“I tried!” the captain shouted, straining against his restraints. “I had the laboratory staff contact the Tevatnoa to see how their research was coming, but these guys launched a fucking mutiny and we’ve been sailing wild ever since. Thank God you figured it out. Who knows what would have happened to me if—”
Taylor laughed, silencing him. It was a soft chuckle at first, growing into a deep, nasty chortle. “You think they came to save you?” he said.
The captain’s eyes drilled into him, and Miller found himself resting his palm on his side holster, as if the tied, bound captain could somehow come up out of his chair and tackle him.
“You mean you’re not?” the captain snapped.
“Not exactly,” Miller said, dropping his hand and stepping past Taylor toward the com.
“What are you doing?” Taylor asked, looking mildly concerned.
“You can’t operate like this,” Miller said, picking up the microphone and pressing the button. “You’ll all die.” Then, into the comm, he said, “Tevatnoa, this is Miller aboard the Penelope. Do you copy, over?”
After a sharp burst of static, Commander Lewis’s taut voice could be heard. “Miller? What in the blue blazes are you doing over there?”
“If you don’t mind, sir, I’ll explain that later. For now, I’d like to request a tactical team from the Tevatnoa be brought aboard the Penelope to assume command. There’s been a mutiny.”
“Where’s Captain Duran?”
“Here on the bridge with me, sir. But he’s not in command.”
“I can’t risk sending a team over with the outbreak aboard, Miller. By all respects, you shouldn’t be there either,” Lewis said.
“It’s already here, sir. It’s why the mutiny happened in the first place.”
Lewis’s voice trailed off into faint cussing before the communications line was cut. After a few seconds, the line opened again. Miller could hear the strain in Lewis’s voice. He’d have bet a thousand dollars the old commander was scratching a hole the size of Texas into his thighs. “Fine. Stay put until they arrive, but when you get back, you’re going into voluntary quarantine until your team is cleared, and you’d better have a grade-A excuse for being there in the first place, son. You hear me?”
“Loud and clear, sir. Miller out.” After the lin
e went dead, Miller put the mic down. Taylor’s and Captain Duran’s expressions suggested it would be a challenge brokering a peaceful solution to the mutiny, but Miller couldn’t concentrate on that. He’d leave it to the approaching team, which by his calculations would arrive in less than half an hour, giving him little time to secure the research from the lab.
“Hsiung,” he said.
She snapped to attention. “Yes, sir?”
“You’ve got the helm until the team arrives. Morland, du Trieux, you’re with me.”
“What about me?” Captain Duran bellowed, struggling against his restraints until the chair groaned in protest.
Hsiung looked to Miller for guidance.
He shrugged. “Up to you,” he told her, and then left with Morland and du Trieux trailing.
He could just make out the captain’s wails of protest as they passed the communications arrays on their way back toward the hydroponics pool.
It was time to perform another miracle.
THE LABORATORY WAS still surrounded when they arrived, if the crowd seemed less of a mob without Taylor in the center. Despite eyeing Miller and his team with deep suspicion, the crowd parted, allowing them access to the door.
Miller yanked on the handle, confirming it was locked; a glance through the tiny window suggested it was also barred. Scratches and jagged scrapes tracked the edge of the door—perhaps from a crowbar—along with what appeared to be bullet holes. It couldn’t be more than hollow aluminium, yet somehow it had held.
Miller knocked. He wasn’t expecting a response, and there wasn’t one. After pounding a few times, he raised his voice and shouted into one of the bullet holes. “My name’s Miller. I run security on the Tevatnoa.” He waited a minute. When still no response came, he pounded again. “I’d rather not blast my way through this door—especially since there’s a mob of angry passengers behind me.”
“What do you want?” a woman’s voice shouted back, from some distance away.
“A squad is coming over from our ship to broker an end to the mutiny.”
“Great!” the woman shouted back. “Let me know when it’s over.”
“We will, ma’am. But I’m under additional orders that pertain to you. Would you let me in?”
“Do your orders involve destroying my lab, or killing me and my technicians?”
“If it did, do you think I’d tell you? But no. That’s not why I’m here.”
“That’s what that other guy said, and they killed Benji.”
Miller gritted his teeth. “I heard about that. But I’m here to ensure your safety and that of your team and research. Tevatnoa wants an end to this situation, including the epidemic.”
The voice remained silent after that. Miller thought he heard rustling and the distinct sound of furniture being dragged across a floor, but it was hard to tell for certain with the sloshing of the ocean and the murmur of the mutineers.
Finally, the door opened an inch and a sliver of a face appeared. “Just you, no weapons.”
Miller wanted to move fast, lest the crowd behind him figure out what was happening. Grabbing hold of his rifle strap, he handed his M27 to du Trieux, his Gallican to Morland, and his hunting knife back to du Trieux, then slid through the door and slammed it behind him.
Inside, the overhead lights were dimmed and buzzing. The room—previously some sort of towel dispensary and snack bar—smelled of sweat and peanuts. A wooden counter followed the wall three-quarters of the way around the room, piled high with scientific equipment. There was evidence of a struggle: chairs were broken, desks overturned, and shattered glass crunched under Miller’s boots.
Beside him stood a woman with dark hair, round glasses and a white lab coat. Behind her, two technicians stood behind overturned desks, wide-eyed.
“How many of you are there?” the woman in front asked.
“Are you Dr. Dalton?”
“Yes. How many of you are there? Enough to get all three of us out of here safely?”
Miller pursed his lips. “That wasn’t the plan.”
Dr. Dalton bit her lip. “What is the plan, then?”
“I think it’s best if you hold up here until the rest of the security forces arrive. Shouldn’t be more than an hour. Let them organize the passengers and set up some sort of chain of command. Then you let them in. That is, if you’ve got enough provisions to sustain you for another day or two?”
“A day or two?” shrieked one of the techs.
Dr. Dalton looked to Miller with a tinge of apology. “We’ve been living off condiment packets.”
“I’m sick of mayo!” the other tech griped.
“If you’re not here for evacuation, then what are you doing here?” the doctor asked.
“I understand you’ve been experimenting on a new line of antibiotics.”
She wrung her hands. “Yes. But as I’ve said before, it’s not tested extensively on humans, and it’s a little”—she looked back at her technicians, shifting on her feet, her thick-soled nursing shoes squeaking—“controversial?”
The techs nodded.
“I don’t care about that,” Miller said, “as long as it’s effective. There’s an influenza epidemic here and also on the Tevatnoa and a secondary infection of pneumonia on top of that. The death rates are climbing.”
“I’m well aware of all that,” Dr. Dalton said, stepping back and moving to a refrigeration unit under the counter. “But once people here found out what I’d made, well... I’m assuming you heard what happened?”
Miller nodded.
“If their reaction was that bad, I can’t imagine anyone on your ship will want to try it.” She opened the refrigerator door and pulled out a rack of test tubes. Each tube contained a brown fluid.
“They will if it will save their life.”
“Really?” Dr. Dalton challenged him, taking a sample and holding it toward him. “Would you drink cockroach tea?”
Miller reached out for the tube, then hesitated.
Dr. Dalton nodded glumly, then moved to put the test tube back with the others.
“Wait,” he said. “Explain to me how it works.”
Dr. Dalton raised an eyebrow. “There are nine molecules with antibiotic properties in the brain and nerve tissue of a cockroach, did you know that?”
Miller shook his head.
“It’s why people joke that after the apocalypse, the only thing left will be plastic bags, disposable diapers, and cockroaches. Well, they’re not wrong. Anyway, protein molecules from the roaches can eliminate ninety per cent of the MRSA superbug without any harm to human cells. They were working on it in England a few years ago, but it never really caught on. I figured, what have we got to lose? This is the apocalypse, isn’t it?”
“But you haven’t tested it on real people yet? Just cells?”
Dr. Dalton motioned to the tech on her left, a skinny girl who couldn’t be more than twenty with stringy long hair and an overbite. “Well, we tested it on one subject. Becky.”
The girl nodded and Miller. “The secret,” she said, “is to drink the tea at the first onset of infection.”
“What about people who already have resistant infections?” Miller asked.
Dr. Dalton shrugged. “We don’t know. But it won’t hurt them to try.”
“How much of this can you give me?”
She motioned to the other refrigeration unit tucked under the counter on the other side. “We have almost a thousand units, but the refrigerators are full, so we’ve held off making more the last few days. My fear was that the people would come in and trash the lab and destroy all the tea, or take it themselves rather than get it to those who need it. Or worse, destroy the research.”
“Or us,” Becky added. “Like they did with Benji when he tried to stop them.”
Dr. Dalton’s eyes teared, and she flattened her lips. “I can give you a sample and the formula, to take back to the Tevatnoa. The tea takes twenty-four hours to produce, assuming you can find enough cockroache
s.”
“Which doesn’t seem to be a problem, at least on this ship,” the other tech said.
Miller took the samples from her outstretched hand and pocketed them. He waited a moment for the doctor to copy the formula, then folded and secured that as well.
“Can you stay until the other security team arrives?” Becky asked.
Miller shook his head. “Bar the door as I leave, and do it quickly.” He tried to ignore their cries as he reached for the handle. Their panic cut him to the quick, but he had no other option. He yanked back the handle enough to slip out.
Back outside, du Trieux and Morland handed back his weapons. He listened for the dragging sounds as the door was jammed from the inside again. The crowd gathered around, pestering him as to what had happened, and what he had learned. Miller flat-out ignored them.
They were scared. The captain had screwed up, and quite probably made the situation aboard intolerable, effectively creating the mutiny that overthrew him. But just then, Miller was having a hard time telling the difference between a mob of ruthless humans, and the mobs of Infected he’d gunned down in New York. If he thought too hard about it, it might keep him up at night. So he ploughed through the crowd unyielding, and headed back to the bridge to retrieve Hsiung.
In the distance, the unmistakeable sound of dinghy motors floated up and over the deck in the sea breeze. The other security forces were on their way.
Good.
They could contain this mess.
Miller was done.
14
SAMANTHA AND THE other survivors trickled back to the ruined camp the morning after the raid, shaken and scared. Out of thirty or so deserters, half remained.
The camp itself was destroyed, and the fire had spread from the huts and into the surrounding forest. A scorched path cut through the trees; no-one knew where the burnt path led, or if it continued to burn, and no one dared check.
The bodies of the dead were missing. It was unclear how many had died, and how many had been taken back to the farming commune to work, if any. Regardless, they searched the embers for signs of life, to no avail.