First Salik War 2: The V'Dan

by Jean Johnson

  (So that’s the difference between our suites? An extra table and a desk?) Jackie asked, reading his subthoughts.

  (And blue blankets and cushion covers.)

  (I’ll be booted if I’ll ask permission of our hosts—mind if I move in with you, and relegate the other psis to this room?) she quipped. (I like orange, not beige, but blue will do in a pinch.)

  (It . . . wouldn’t be diplomatic. We cannot appear to be living together. At least, not until my people grasp the fact that your people are indeed adults,) he reminded her.

  (Yes, yes, the inherent visual prejudice of your people toward the jungenless,) she sighed. Finding a locker, she stowed her kit bag. (I’m going to contact the other four. Thank you for being willing to share your quarters with Darian and Clees. Just gently remind Clees he is not allowed to take any pictures whatsoever while you’re in your shared quarters. I’ll do it from my end, too.)

  (You Terrans and your nearly compulsive need to record every moment of your lives,) Li’eth teased lightly. (Why do you do that, anyway?)

  (You’ve mostly seen the government side of things; civilian life is a little bit more circumspect,) Jackie explained. (The government has to be transparent and open for everything but security secrets. We dealt with . . .)

  (. . . Too much corruption in your past. Yes, I paid attention to the history overview lectures,) Li’eth returned. (You will be recorded here, but it will be like your quarantine, for medical and safety reasons. Those reviewing the footage will be reluctant to do so particularly in the privacy of your quarters because of the lack of jungen.)

  (And again, we get back to this simple, singular difference. I’m hoping it won’t be that bad, Li’eth,) she told him. (But I’m not holding my breath.)

  He found a similar cupboard for his own gear. (I wouldn’t advise it, no. We’re supposed to be able to overlook such things, but I’m not going to hold my breath, either. I suspect no one will know how good or bad our reactions will be until they are put to the test.)

  An alarm blared, startling both of them. A voice came over the intercoms, belonging to Dr. Du, speaking in swift but crisp V’Dan, then again in Terranglo. “Emergency! Dr. Maria to the kitchen immediately, and bring your epi kit! Emergency! All Terrans report to the hangar bay immediately! All Terrans report to the hangar bay immediately! Code Blue! Dr. Maria to the kitchen with an epi kit, stat! All Terrans report to the hangar bay immediately!”

  (?!?)

  Dashing out of her quarters, Jackie cast out her mind as she ran. She sorted through the babble of confused, startled, and worried minds, and zeroed in on a desperate, panicked set of thoughts, strong enough that Jackie could feel the clogging of her lungs, making it seem like she had to struggle to breathe even as she sucked in full lungfuls of air. Behind her, she could hear another set of running boots and sensed Li’eth catching up.

  They entered the large kitchen area and skidded to a stop, Jackie bumping into a counter and Li’eth grabbing onto her. The prince blinked down at the sight of a group of Terrans huddled around one of their members, a youngish woman with curly brown hair and almost V’Dan golden skin. Her face and throat were blotchy and swollen, her body contorting as she wheezed with wild-eyed desperation for air. Maria de la Santoya, the first Terran doctor he had ever met, skidded into the galley from a different doorway, a silver-sided case in her hand. She scrambled to the fallen girl—woman, Li’eth corrected himself—and quickly flicked open the latches. A babble of words spat from her mouth, words he didn’t understand.

  Jackie did; it was Spanish. She quickly translated it into V’Dan, knowing that the doctor was too focused on her patient, checking pulse, eyelids, testing the puffiness swelling her face. “What did she eat? Does anyone know if she ate or drank anything?”

  “The corporal said she was hungry, sir,” one of the men kneeling by the patient responded. Li’eth realized both were in very similar brown or mottled brown-and-beige uniforms, as were the other six in the room. “She tried one of the fruits. I tried it, too, and it tasted good, but kinda hot and peppery—that red one, like a red pear but with the three lobes at the bottom?”

  Jackie eyed the bowl he pointed to, and shook her head. “That’s a V’Dan fruit. I’ve seen just about every kind there is on Earth, and that’s not one of ours.”

  The soldier started to speak, then widened his eyes . . . or tried to. His own face was starting to swell. Li’eth felt his hands starting to heat up. (Jackie, I think my holy—my biokinesis is activating. It does that when it’s needed!)

  She looked quickly between him, the soldier, and grabbed his hands, dragging him over to the soldier. Li’eth moved willingly. With her palms on top of his, she pressed his hands to the man’s face (Concentrate . . . breathe deep . . . imagine the swelling and the airway constriction reducing . . . imagine his blood pressure holding steady instead of dropping . . . there! I can feel it working . . . Thank goodness biokinesis doesn’t require a medical degree.)

  Maria looked up from where she had injected epinephrine into the corporal’s outer thigh at the midpoint. Her hand continued rubbing the muscles to distribute the drug, but her gaze fell on the pair of psis. “What are you two doing?”

  “He ate the fruit, too,” Jackie replied in Spanish, lifting her chin. She could feel a bit of heat in her own fingers. “Li’eth’s biokinesis triggered. We’re trying to clear the anaphylactic shock from their systems.”

  “Mother of God! I thought the booster shoots we developed would have stopped this. Jackie . . . we only have twenty days’ worth of food for two hundred people,” the doctor stressed. She put the epi injector aside and pulled out a breather mask with a small ampoule of compressed oxygen. Fitting it together, she placed it over the wheezing woman’s mouth and nose, and pressed the button, forcing oxygen into her lungs. “Stupid primitive location—I don’t even know what sort of medical facilities these people have. They insisted on showing me to a cabin, first!”

  “What is going on in here?” a silver-suited figure demanded. This voice was female, not male, but the V’Dan words were flavored with a touch of annoyance. “This isn’t a play-place! Get off the floor!”

  Li’eth couldn’t move since his hands still felt hot; he had to stay crouched and continue to stave off whatever weird infection the other man had. But Jackie could. In quick mental consultation—almost faster than thought—she stood and faced the speaker.

  “We are experiencing a medical emergency,” she stated clearly in V’Dan. After several months of speaking it, with Li’eth’s help in correcting her pronunciation, she knew she would be understood. “Please clear the area of all nonessential personnel. This includes you. If you wish to be useful, assist in guiding all the Terrans not in this chamber back to the hangar bay and politely ask them to wait for further instructions.”

  For a moment, the quarantine-suited figure lingered, as if uncertain whether or not to argue, then the V’Dan woman left. Li’eth felt his hands fall cold and pulled them away, rubbing at them. A moment later, they started heating again. (What do I do now?) he asked Jackie, looking up at her. (I can feel the holy fire—nonpyrokinetic fire, I told you how it’s a different kind of heat—and I’m not very practiced at using it.)

  (Ask Maria if you can touch her patient,) Jackie directed him. (Actually, I’ll do it.) “Maria, let Li’eth lay hands on the corporal. I’ll go tell . . .”

  She broke off as a trio of silver-suited figures hurried into the kitchen. “Out of the way!” the lead figure ordered. All three of them carried cases that, while not exactly like Maria’s, undoubtedly carried a number of similar things. “Clear the area! What’s the emergency?”

  Maria remembered her V’Dan vocabulary. “The emergency is for something your people do not even have the words to describe. Back off and let me do my work. Here, you hold this mask over her face. Keep her breathing.”

  “Excuse me, child, but you do not�
�”

  “Meioas!” Jackie snapped, halting the lead figure as the . . . man? . . . stooped to reach for Maria’s shoulder. The voice could have been contralto or tenor, and the frame was slender. “Allow me to introduce Doctor Maria de la Santoya, chief medical officer of the Terran embassy. Apologize, and move back.”

  The crouching figure hesitated, then slowly rose and stepped back. Maria finished examining the male soldier, then reached for her epinephrine equipment. Swapping out the needle and adding a fresh ampoule, she injected the male in the thigh and began massaging the muscle, no doubt under the theory of better safe than sorry, though his face was no longer quite so blotchy even if it was still a little puffy. Jackie explained for her, since she was busy with her patients.

  “Our doctor is medicating and monitoring two patients who are apparently suffering from medical conditions which your people have not suffered in over ninety-five centuries. At least, according to your holy texts,” Jackie added. That caused the trio to exchange awkward looks, thanks to the limited fields of view in their silvered quarantine suits.

  (. . . The heat is gone. Either they’re going to die anyway, and there’s nothing more I can do for them,) Li’eth half joked grimly, removing his hands from the corporal’s knees, the closest part he had been able to touch, (or my holy gift isn’t needed anymore because they might actually recover. Saints certainly know, because I don’t.)

  (A lot of biokinetics work that way,) she reassured him. (Nobody has to use their psychic gifts if they don’t want to, not even medical gifts—it falls under the heading of “bodily autonomy”—but ones like that often trigger anyway when needed.)

  “. . . Is this condition contagious?” one of the silver-suited V’Dan asked.

  Jackie shook her head. “It is caused by exposure to certain foods, insect bites, flower pollens, and so forth. It can also vary from person to person. In this case, they ate one of the local fruits. Their bodies went into shock, with itching, stinging, rashes, swelling, and loss of blood pressure. The medicine applied by Dr. de la Santoya is usually very effective at managing the symptoms, but the onset was rapid, and they will require careful monitoring over the next day or so. You will assist our doctor, but she is in charge of these cases, as this is something you are not trained to manage.”

  “Under no account is anyone to be allowed into any places where plants are growing, nor are they to be allowed access to any V’Dan food supplies,” Maria added sternly, done with checking the soldier. She moved back to check on the corporal, and nodded. “You six, you are their squad mates?”

  “Doctor, yes, sir,” one of the remaining Marines confirmed. “We were to report to the galley for K.P. as soon as our gear was stowed in our cabins. Are Corporal Chaluley and Private Thompson going to be alright?”

  “Yes, they should be alright for now,” Maria confirmed. She lifted her gaze to Jackie’s and swapped languages back to her native tongue. “Twenty days of food, my friend. That is not good.”

  “It’s worse. It’s space food,” Jackie said. “It’s going to taste overseasoned for everyone in a gravitied environment.”

  Her attempt at humor earned her a wrinkled nose. “Laugh all you want, but we are in serious trouble. Do we turn around and head home, or stay here and order more food?”

  “Ordering food is a temporary solution, but I don’t want to give up just yet. We have a few day’s leeway in that twenty. Let’s ask a few questions.” Switching to V’Dan, she lifted her chin at the trio. “You’re all doctors, yes?”

  At their nods, she tipped her head at Maria.

  “Your counterpart has several questions. Mostly to do with your jungen virus,” Jackie clarified. “Because of it, your people are naturally immune to what we call a histamine reaction—the immune system overreacts to a foreign substance and causes the symptoms I described. The amount of histamine triggers in your food must be overwhelming to have reacted so fast. Are any of you an expert in the jungen virus and its effects on your genetics?”

  All three shook their heads. Jackie lifted her chin at the door. “Pick two of you to go prep the infirmary for two patients, then start figuring out whom to call. We need the foremost authorities on jungen, and preferably an expert on holistic genetic therapy. One of you remain behind to guide the patients and their handlers to the infirmary.”

  “You know your medical terms well,” Maria muttered in Spanish, her tone lighter than usual with humor.

  “I’m required by law to be up-to-date on a high percentage of science, technology, engineering, arts, mathematics, and even some general knowledge of first aid and current medical advances, remember?” she quipped back.

  “What is that language you are speaking?” one of the suited doctors asked.

  “Spanish. Try to remember to speak in V’Dan wherever possible,” Jackie added to her medical officer. “I’ll find someone who is knowledgeable and willing to sit down with you for a transfer of medical terminology and equipment understanding.”

  “That would be deeply appreciated.” Switching to V’Dan, Maria pointed at the patients. “You three, lift the corporal; you three, lift the private. Keep their heads and necks straight, and do not compress their chests. Doctors, one of you lead the way to the infirmary. Jackie, I need you to go explain to the others and the incoming personnel—”

  “—That we’re not to eat any of the local food. And then I’ll go get a direct line back to home to start discussing how to get enough food out here. Doctors,” she added firmly, realizing the trio still stood there. Jackie pointed at Maria. “She is the expert in this particular medical emergency. You will get the infirmary ready, and start contacting experts in the fields of jungen and genetic therapy.”

  They moved. Jackie shifted out of the way of the soldiers, who had been quietly conferring on how to lift their companions. Being trained military personnel, they managed a credible lift and side-shuffle carry. Jackie could have lifted both easily enough, but she needed to go to the hangar bay.

  (Li’eth, will you stay with them, and watch over them?) she asked. (Keep the doctors cooperating? I have to go handle the nonmedical side of this.)

  (Of course,) he agreed promptly. Rising from the floor, he dusted off his knees and followed the shuffling, brown-clad warriors.

  Jackie used the door behind her, trying to dredge up a mental map of the sector. Since there were a good seventy or eighty people all streaming toward or clustering in one zone, she let the weight of their mental presences guide her.

  Her mind raced over what was needed as she moved. They hadn’t brought all that many provisions, thinking that they could rely on V’Dan food, since the V’Dan had eaten Terran food with little problems. They had discussed the need for antihistamine booster shots to counter whatever the world of V’Dan might throw their way, but it was clear those shots were inadequate for the local onslaught of histaminic triggers.

  That meant they had to make some hard decisions. First, she would have to reassure everyone that everything was relatively okay, that the station wasn’t going to blow up or whatever. Second, she would have to explain what the emergency was—no V’Dan food could be trusted, and even the V’Dan version of Terran foods couldn’t be trusted because it had been evolving on the local planet for nearly ten thousand years. Third, she would have to direct that a single day’s rations be removed from the incoming ships, but no more; if they had to return home, it would be best to keep all the food on board so that it wouldn’t have to be repacked onto each vessel.

  Dead end, Jackie realized, blinking at the supply closet on the other side of the door she had just opened. Okay, backtrack and go around . . .

  Her fourth task would be a chat with the incoming crews on what they thought the best solution might be, either having more Terran ships bring food directly from Earth while everyone stayed put here in V’Dan home space, or to have some of their Embassy Class ships off-load their g
ear to make room, and head out to meet the Aloha Class vessels midway for cargo transfer. Both had their pluses and their minuses; waiting for ships from Earth to get to V’Dan meant waiting fourteen days out of twenty, but they’d have their own ships on hand in case they had to leave in a hurry.

  If they sent out Embassy ships to meet the fleet halfway, that meant the Terran fleet—limited still in number—could have a faster turnaround time to head back, pick up more food, and come back with it for the next cargo run . . . but they couldn’t keep up cargo runs indefinitely, and fewer ships here at the station meant fewer available seats for getting the Terrans away should things go wrong. I’ll have to ask them what the maximum safe transport capacity is for each ship. It might be a rough ride in some of those jump seats, but I know we weren’t maxed out on capacity for personnel. Cargo, yes; personnel, no.

  I was so hoping those booster shots would work, she thought ruefully, reaching an airlock with a thick-glazed window looking onto the hangar bay. I don’t know if these V’Dan even have genetic resequencing therapy. We do, but all the equipment’s back home, and it doesn’t always work, particularly on anyone who suffers from chimerism . . . We’ll give the V’Dan three days to ship up their experts and the necessary equipment, Jackie decided.

  That gives us three further days to determine if anything can be done, before we have to decide if we can stay and try for some sort of gene-therapy solution, or if we have to say “Sorry—but feel free to come visit us!” and pack up to go home.

  Unfortunately, there are a lot of variables that are beyond our control right now. As far as First Contact scenarios went, having two of her people nearly die from anaphylactic shock was not the sort of “first” she’d wanted anyone to experience. Definitely nowhere on my list of Things To Experience, here.