The Long Way Home

by Darrell Bain

  "Okay, stop."

  He withdrew the sample and moved the tip over to a series of very small cups glued to a support. “Back pressure now. Gently. Good. Got it."

  He blew out a breath of air. “Thanks, Rufus. Now let's see what I've got."

  The first two cups were contaminated with other material but the last four looked to be relatively pure.

  "Great! Now we're gonna break this stuff into smaller bits and look at it with my microspectrograph. It's not used very often, but all the kits carry them."

  "What do you expect to find?"

  Jeremy grinned at him. “If we're lucky, the causative organism is going to show up here. I'm betting that it's something with an inorganic shell around a bit of organic matter that represents a very tiny organism that likes our hemoglobin. It probably zeroes in on a blood cell and sheds its shell before the nannites can catch it. A wave of sickness washed over him and the grin was wiped from his face. Abruptly he realized that he had been ill for at least two days and had been putting recognition of that fact off, owing to tiredness and lack of sleep. Which probably means Lisa is sick, too, he thought glumly.

  A few minutes later, his guess was confirmed. “See the graphs? A mix of organic and inorganic constituents. It must have an inorganic shell. That's why our nannites haven't worked. They didn't recognize these critters as a living microorganism. Besides that, the organisms must have multiplied slowly at first because it took a while before anyone showed symptoms. Then when it hits a tipping point it multiplies at a damned high rate for me to be able to isolate a layer of them from blood, even under magnification.” He breathed a great sigh of relief, and then was suddenly very sick. He grabbed a nearby trash can and vomited into it while Rufus held him. He retched again and again until the nausea finally passed, but it left him very weak.

  "Hang on, Jere,” Rufus said. “We gotta finish this up, or we all die. What next?"

  His head whirled, and it was hard to think. “Uh, now we have to tailor some command nannites to go after the bug and get them injected into everyone. Fortunately I've done that before, so I won't be learning on the job."

  "When? On this trip?"

  "No. Academy. Let's get on with it while I can. Look in Simpson's kit and find the vial labeled command nannites, untailored, and bring it and a syringe to me. I don't think I can walk."

  While Rufus carried out his orders, he wondered how the COB still managed to function and barely show any symptoms of the disease. He must have the constitution of a Mountain Devil from New Germany. Hell, youngsters were supposed to be stronger and more resistant to disease, weren't they? He shook his head to get his mind back on track. When Shinzyki brought the vial and syringe back, Jeremy looked at Rufus and realized he was almost as sick as himself. It was just his indomitable will and strong body that kept him on his feet.

  Jeremy took the syringe and vial. “Now we dilute our little bastard critter with some saline to give it some volume, and then we suck it up in the syringe,” he said as if lecturing a class. “Then we inject this mixture into the vial of command nannites and give them a few minutes to recognize the little critters and kill them. After that, it's just a matter of injecting a drop or two of the tailored nannites into everybody and then waiting for them to reproduce and see what happens."

  He struggled through the waiting period by laying his head on the desk in his hands. He had to force himself to wait until the solution was primed.

  "Okay, let's get a pack of syringes and give the injections, Rufus. I'll start at one end of the cabins and you the other. Where's Bullock? He can help."

  "He's caring for the crew. We can do it, but ... hey, there's only a half dozen syringes here. That's not enough."

  "Doesn't matter,” he said through a thick fog. “We can use them over and over. Our regular nannites will take care of any microbes that contaminate it. Let's go, an’ be sure you make each dose small ‘nough so you don’ use it up too soon.” He knew he was slurring some words but couldn't help it. His tongue felt thick, as if it were growing in his mouth.

  It was a nightmarish walk through the cabins on legs so weak he had to brace himself on whatever was near to keep from falling. Some of the crew were so bad off that they looked to be already dead. Hell, some probably are dead, he thought. He was too weak to tell the difference. Many had fouled themselves from being unable to move from their beds. When he saw a body, he injected it, not bothering to see if it still breathed. He came to the Commander's cabin and realized what he might see inside. He pushed the hatch open and went to Lisa's bedside.

  "Jer ... Jeremy. Love ... love you...” Those were the only words she could get out.

  "I'm here. Gonna save you. Gonna love you,” he muttered weakly.” He injected her and sat down on the little couch. He thought he was forgetting something but couldn't figure out what it was. The syringe and vial dropped from his hand and rolled across the floor. That's it. I haven't done myself.

  His body slid bonelessly off the couch and onto the floor. He forced himself to crawl toward the vial and then to the syringe. He pushed himself up and leaned against a bulkhead. With trembling weak fingers and a feeble grip he fumbled, dropped the vial, regained it and used the syringe to extract the last of the nannite solution from the vial. He pulled up the leg of his cammies and plunged the syringe into his calf, using the palm of his hand to hit the plunger and inject the solution. He slid off the bulkhead to the floor with the syringe still sticking out from his leg.

  He rolled onto his back and for a long while remembered nothing else.

  * * * *

  "Lieutenant Costa! Jeremy! Wake up!"

  The voice came to him from a long way off. He thought it was familiar but couldn't tell for sure. He struggled to awaken and wiped matter from his eyes. He blinked and saw that he was still in Lisa's cabin where he had fallen. Lisa and Rufus were on their knees beside him, helping raise his body to an upright position and then to his feet. He staggered a little before regaining his sense of balance but decided to sit down anyway.

  "What happened?"

  "You damn near killed yourself, you fool, if you'll excuse the expression, sir,” Rufus said. “I never thought once that you'd go around giving everyone else their injection and forget about yourself, or I'd have done it for you. Idiot!"

  "Don't call him that, Rufus. He saved our lives and the boat,” Lisa said.

  He heard her voice and looked at her. His heart grew in his chest until it almost choked him at seeing her alive. He wanted more than anything to tell her he loved her, but instead he said, “It ... it seems like a dream now. Sometimes I thought I was injecting people who were already dead."

  "You probably were, Jeremy,” she told him gently.

  "How many?"

  "Fifteen died."

  He remembered then how he had overlooked the tiny little lethal organism at first, taking it to be nothing more than an artifact. “Oh, shit! Goddamn me for a fool! Why didn't I recognize those bastard bugs when I first saw them? They looked like artifacts, and that's what I took them for!” Just the thought made him feel horrible inside. He felt tears on his cheeks but didn't bother to wipe them off. Rufus and Lisa simply looked at him with no malice or blame on their faces. “Don't you understand? I'm responsible for everyone of the crew who died!"

  "No, you're not,” Lisa contradicted him firmly. “Rufus told me how you kept going when you were practically dead on your feet, and how hard the microorganism was to isolate. He also told me you kept working until you were practically dead yourself, until you finally discovered the cause of the sickness. That's why we recovered sooner than you. Jeremy, just from what Rufus told me, a goddamned physician probably couldn't have done more than you did! You're not to blame for anyone who died! You're a hero, if anything, and everyone on this boat except Bullock owes you their life. Him, too. He couldn't even have landed the boat by himself. And last of all, Sing did the original microbiology analysis. He missed finding that microorganism, too."

&nb
sp; He looked back and forth at each of them. Finally, he nodded, but inside he knew he would live with those dead for a long time. Right now he didn't want to know who they were. He thought he would break down and bawl if he did.

  "It happens, Jeremy,” Lisa said. “An officer does his best, and that's exactly what you did. Your very best. No one can ask any more. Now go on, get cleaned up and have something to eat, and let's try to get organized again."

  "Yes, ma'am,” he said and got shakily to his feet.

  She grabbed him and hugged him fiercely before letting him loose. “Now go!"

  He went. Back in his cabin he thought how ironic it was. The microbiology techniques of three centuries past might have grown the bug in a culture but today it was all molecular manipulation and that had missed it because of the inorganic shell.

  * * * *

  Twelve hours later, after a shower, a meal and some solid, much needed sleep, Jeremy felt almost like his old self, except for a little residual weakness. That would pass, he knew. Even now, his nannites must be stimulating production of red blood cells to get their numbers back up to normal. He tapped into the command com.

  "Commander."

  "Lieutenant Costa here. I'm awake and ready to get to work, Skipper,” he said.

  "Welcome back to the world, Jeremy. Come to the control room first. All the officers will meet there, now that you're back amongst the living."

  On the way, he remembered that she had told him fifteen of the crew had died. Counting Russell as gone, that left only twenty-seven of them to run the boat. He had no idea which officers were left, other than Lisa and Rufus. He was almost afraid to enter the control room and learn who had died and who lived.

  He pushed through the hatchway.

  "Over here, Lieutenant Costa,” Lisa said.

  He looked around first. There were only three officers besides himself: Lisa, Rufus and Casey. He didn't want to believe it.

  "Is this all of us?"

  "Yes, I'm afraid this is it,” Lisa said sadly. “We'll just have to work with what we have. Which is why I got you together before speaking to the rest of the crew. At present, they're cleaning the cabins and preparing the bodies for burial.” She paused for a moment as if thinking of them, and then continued in a calm voice, “What I propose is for Jeremy and me to run the control room with Rufus joining us as necessary, but otherwise taking care of the boat. We'll need one person to help in the control room—someone to just watch the instruments when neither of us can be there and notify us if anything varies from what's expected. Casey, I think we can organize the explorers under your command as one squad, with such chiefs as are left to help you. Does all this sound satisfactory, or do you have other suggestions?"

  "How about when we're dirtside? Will I run one watch or two?"

  "I'll leave that up to you. If you think you can handle the duties with two small squads rather than one larger one, fine, but I should let you know that there's no one left among the explorers I'd be comfortable with brevetting to officer."

  "How about Juanita Martinez?"

  "She's surely going to be an officer eventually, but she doesn't have enough education yet."

  "Hmm. May I think about this before we leave here, Skipper?"

  "Certainly. How you arrange duties is up to you, but if you possibly can avoid it, I'd rather you not risk your whole squad at once. Any other questions?"

  "I have one more,” Casey said. “What happened? The last thing I remember I was dying. Then I woke up feeling halfway human, and a few hours later I was well."

  "Jeremy happened. He diagnosed the bug and worked up some nannites to treat everyone."

  "Godalmighty! Thank you, Jeremy. What the hell was it, though?"

  "It wasn't much, except for the way it masqueraded as an inorganic substance. That's why our nannites didn't recognize it and attack. Once I figured that out, the rest was easy. I'm just sorry I didn't get it sooner."

  "He did great, Casey. Any more questions? No? Then let's call the crew and have them meet us in the dayroom.” She smiled thinly. “I don't want to set a precedent, but the control room ran unattended while we were all ill, so I think it will manage for a short time on its own, especially while we're dirtside. I want everyone together for this meeting and there's simply not enough room here."

  * * * *

  Jeremy was glad to see that Juanita was alive. She smiled when his gaze stopped on her for a moment. Sadly, others weren't. Siegrer was gone. Pronghorn and others he had known and worked with, gone. He closed his eyes for a moment in silent remembrance, and then listened as Lisa spoke.

  "We've had a bad time, but we're back on our feet now and ready to continue our voyage. Before I say anything else, I want all of you to know that it is due to the efforts of Lieutenant Costa that even this many of us are here at all. He diagnosed the illness and concocted the nannites to wipe out the microorganism that that was killing us. We all owe our lives to him. I'm only sorry I can give him no other recognition except our sincere thanks. And this.” She took one step. Putting her arms around him, she hugged him fiercely, kissed him on the mouth, and stepped back. The crew cheered and clapped and whistled.

  She grinned despite herself. “Now it's time to honor our dead and go on. I have no doubt that we can do it, nor do my officers. We will return home and warn of the threat against the very existence of our species. For the immediate future, Lieutenant Casey and Mr. Shinzyki will be in charge of boat operations and exploration. Lieutenant Costa and myself and Spacer Sparks will cover the control room with occasional assistance from Mr. Shinzyki.

  "I know as well as you do what a tough time we've had, but that's why they pay us the big money, folks. We can take it, and we can do the job. When we leave this room, we shall all go directly to the aft airlock for burial ceremonies. Afterwards, I'm sure Lieutenant Casey and Mr. Shinzyki will have lots to say concerning the organization of the boat and how your duties will now be arranged.

  "One more thing—and this is the good news that goes with the bad. We now number scarcely a third of our original number, yet we still have almost all of our stock of spacer rations—enough now to feed us for almost six months. What that means, if we can survive on spacerats for that long ... “—she paused for the inevitable chuckles, and then went on—"is that we'll only have to stop for organics a few times. We can make several jumps before taking our water tanks to the safety margin of half full. Even then, filling the water tanks doesn't take that long.

  "In short, if we forego harvesting organics, we can probably make it back to Earth in as little as six months, and no more than eight. That's assuming, of course, that we can avoid other problems.” She saw smiles and grins appearing on their faces and knew she had done the right thing in telling them now. “Unless we begin showing signs of dementia from eating so many spacerats, that's what I plan on doing. We'll stock up on organics and water here, and not have to touch another planet for several more transits, and not all that many for the rest of our journey. Now let us retire to say farewell to our friends, lovers and crewpersons."

  [Back to Table of Contents]

  Chapter Thirty

  "Yes, Casey, what can I do for you?"

  It's not me, Skipper. It's Chief Martinez. She wants to see you privately."

  "Hmm. Any idea what it's about?"

  "Yes, ma'am, I think so, but in case I'm wrong I'd rather she tell you."

  "Now, that is interesting. Tell her to come to my cabin.” Lisa tapped out and turned to Jeremy, who was busy with the control room simulator. He never stops, she thought fondly. Anything he can to better his performance and help the boat, he does. “I'll be in my day cabin if you need me, Jeremy."

  "Okay, Skipper. I'll keep watch.” He saved his place in the simulation and moved to the Commander's chair.

  Lisa was curious, to say the least. It was a rare occasion when a member of the crew asked to see the Commander privately. Usually problems went through the chain of command. Such chain as we have, no
w, she thought. It was more than two weeks since they'd left the system where the remains of their comrades were buried. They had made two transits since then, not stopping for either water or organics, and were in hyper again. So far the crew appeared to be functioning well, considering how short handed they were at every position.

  Juanita arrived a few minutes after she had coffee ready, thinking she might as well make the Chief comfortable while she spoke her mind on whatever was bothering her. She hoped it wasn't anything big or bad.

  "Chief Martinez reporting, Ma'am."

  "Hello, Juanita. Have a seat. Would you like some coffee?"

  "Well ... yes, ma'am, if you're having some."

  Having poured for them both, Lisa sat down across her desk from the pretty Hispanic Chief. She noted how nervous Juanita appeared and attempted to make some small talk, asking her how her duties were going and what she thought of the diet of spacerats, but she quickly discerned that Martinez wanted to get on with it.

  She leaned back in her chair and crossed her legs. “All right, Chief Martinez, what is it that's bothering you that Mr. Casey can't take care of?"

  Juanita set her cup down and leaned forward. “Ma'am, I think you must be aware that a lot of pairing has been going on ever since our fight with the Monkeyclaws. And I think you must know that all the pairings aren't ... according to regulation."

  "Chief Martinez, there are some things a Commander might know but might consider those to be matters best not spoken of, so that official recognizance isn't necessary."

  "I know that, ma'am. The whole crew knows that, and if they could say it, I feel certain that everyone would thank you for it. It's the one thing that has made this voyage tolerable for many of us, ever since we lost Sam Johnston and the other ... outlets ... were no longer available."

  "Chief Martinez, I know that. Must we talk about it?” She spoke more sternly than she had intended to. What she was telling her simply reminded her all the more that she couldn't indulge in such practices herself.