Day 3, Hour 14: Two of the handlers, the supply officer, and the ship’s surgeon have died of the fever. Two stewards and sixteen of the passengers are now displaying symptoms as well. Infirmary packed to capacity, with only medical aids to provide care. Have contacted the Federation regarding our condition and am awaiting further instructions.
Day 4: I went to see about the welfare of the stricken passengers. All but one had died, and that one died an hour ago. This is a very virulent and aggressive disease, whatever it is. Federation reply advocates staying away from populated areas for fear of spreading infection. They have promised help, but were strangely vague about when to expect their arrival.
Day 5: We are trying to maintain calm and a sense of business as usual among the passengers and crew but forty-six people are now dead or dying. We bypassed Santa Catrina, angering some of the passengers, who threatened to take their private vessels and jump ship. I cannot allow this to happen. Have imposed strict quarantine on the sick, but as soon as one group is isolated, others outside the group come down with the symptoms. The service crew, what remains of it, refuses to interact with passengers. The ship’s navigator does not look well either.
Day 8: Peculiar how people refuse to believe evidence they don’t like. With crew and passengers dropping like flies around them, the Premier Class passengers, so far mostly unaffected by the disease, have demanded that they be put ashore at Luna Sangre for the event they plan to attend there two days hence. I have been informed that if the Blanca does not dock, these people will be leaving in their private vessels. This I cannot allow. The crew is also turning mutinous. Have contacted nearby Federation outposts, but they seem to be having their own problems with this illness, and no stations near us are equipped to handle more patients. Everyone is frightened, but this illness must be confined to the ship. We have seventy-five dead and fifty near death at this point. There seems to be no treatment. I will do anything necessary to prevent anyone from leaving.
Day 9, Hour 23: I have confined all crew members except essential bridge personnel to their quarters and ordered the passengers to stay in their cabins. The first officer is attempting to wrest command from me. I made the mistake of confiding my contingency plan for the passengers should any of them carry out their threat to escape quarantine. To prevent any from carrying the plague with them, I have changed the course of the Blanca to an uninhabited section of space outside of their shuttles’ ranges.
Day 10: I am not a monster. It was a medical necessity for the entire universe that I did what I did.
I was forced to execute the first officer and navigator for mutiny. They attempted to stop me from detaining the passengers who panicked and ran for their personal vessels. I could not permit that, of course, and at first I thought I succeeded in hiding it from my senior officers. I did, long enough to achieve my goal. I tried to make it as quick and painless as possible. I simply turned off the scrubbers in the ventilation system on the passenger decks and docking bay and back-flushed the vents, reversing the air flow. Though two of the passengers reached their private vessels, as I see on the surveillance cam, none succeeded in leaving the ship. Everyone suffocated. It was not pretty, but it was relatively fast. Once the first officer, Francisco Martinez, looked at the screen and saw the bodies in the corridor, he ordered the second mate and the communications officer to assist the passengers. Of course, I could not allow them to open the door and pollute our air—not that it would have ultimately mattered, but I still had to try to save some of us. I ordered them to stop and when they didn’t, I shot them. Martinez looked at me as I resheathed my sidearm. His expression could not have been more amazed if I’d suddenly turned into an alien right before his eyes. He asked, “What have you done?” So I tried to explain. He directly countermanded my orders, immediately resetting the controls. He succeeded in turning the scrubbers back on and reestablishing normal ventilation, but by then it was too late. Realizing that anyone still alive would not long survive and if they did, would be in no condition to oppose my orders, I allowed him to do so. When he saw that his countermeasures were of no use, he became deranged and attacked me. While he attempted to restrain me in a bear hug, I was able to free my arm and my weapon. I shot him through the chest, then, once I was free again, I shot him at the base of the skull. It was a relatively painless death, though not, as I had hoped, instantaneous. I made him as comfortable as possible at his duty station, and it won’t be long until he’s gone. It is my turn now. I cannot operate this ship alone, I cannot allow others to enter it in an attempt to detain me, and I cannot leave the ship for fear of carrying the disease to the outside world. God forgive me and have mercy on us all. Captain Maria Grimwold, M.D.
“So I was right,” Khorii said, looking up as she finished reading. “It was the plague.”
“No. It was the captain, as you can see, who was responsible for the total annihilation of the crew and passengers, as I mentioned before,” Elviiz, who had been standing beside her reading over her shoulder, said. “The plague did kill many of the passengers, but the captain killed the rest.”
“Only to stop the plague from spreading,” Khorii said. “But this makes me wonder. Why didn’t all of the passengers get it? From reading this, it sounds as if isolation really was impossible to enforce. And why didn’t the captain herself get sick?”
“She sounds as if she may have been insane at the end,” Elviiz said.
“She knew what she had to do. But she does not mention being sick with the plague. She was a medical doctor herself. What a terrible decision to make!”
“Yes, terrible. It was ka-Linyaari,” Elviiz said, in a severe tone.
“Had she been Linyaari or had anyone aboard been Linyaari, no one would have died and none of that would have been necessary,” Khorii replied.
Danger! Warning! Quarantine alert! This entire sector is under quarantine by order of Federation directive number 000472985-2-FDR. All ships are ordered back to their homeports. Any vessel not complying will be destroyed. Reverse course at once. In precisely fifteen minutes this ship will target your vessel with a diterium warhead.”
The announcement continued over the loudspeakers of the Linyaari ship. “Firing will begin in fourteen minutes and fifty-eight seconds. Fourteen minutes and fifty-seven seconds. Fourteen minutes and fifty-six seconds…”
“What a lovely voice she has!” Maarni said to her husband.
“Yes, isn’t it? Especially considering the message,” he replied.
“Federation vessel, this is the Linyaari vessel Mahiiri. We are plague-free from another quadrant and are here to help. Do not fire. Have you any plague victims aboard who need our assistance? We have the means to cure them.”
“Firing will begin in thirteen minutes and forty seconds.”
“Well, dear, extrude the boarding apparatus. They are not responding, but it does not look like a drone to me.”
“Nor me. Boarding apparatus extruded. Fasten your helmet, Yiitir.”
“Already done, my love. Shall we?”
“Firing will begin in thirteen minutes and fifteen seconds.”
Once aboard the Federation vessel, they disarmed the warhead as they had been taught and examined each crew member to see if, contrary to appearances, any of them still lived.
“Oh, how sad. All gone. And so very young, too. This makes how many of these ships we’ve encountered, dear?”
“Six.”
“And how many survivors we have been able to assist.”
“None.”
“I do hope the Balakiire will have better luck at Maganos Moonbase, while the rest of us tidy up space out here and maintain communication lines while patching up the Federation’s. Surely the youngsters on the Moonbase will be fine. Aari and Acorna are well able to protect a small moon and still prevent the plague from spreading elsewhere.”
“One would think. It does seem to be a very widespread plague, judging from all of the threats and warnings we’ve been receiving. But then, I have
no idea what is usual in this sort of situation. There’s certainly nothing in our history to inform one, is there?”
“No, dear. Certainly not.”
After conducting a thorough decontamination of the ship so it could be retrieved later by the Federation without risk of infection, they returned to their own craft. Like all Linyaari vessels, the Mahiiri was egg-shaped. It distinguished itself from others in the Linyaari fleet by the appearance of its hull, which was decorated with swags of gilt and tasteful patterns in lavender, mint green, and purple.
“Oh, good, the com signal is on. Perhaps there’s word from the vanguard even now!”
“Mahiiri, this is Naarye aboard the Haamiiri. Transmission from the Balakiire says that Aari and Acorna did not land on Maganos Moonbase. Acorna’s fathers and their wives are all safe at a health facility on Kezdet. The baby boy was born at two o’clock in the morning Kezdet Standard time. He was fifteen inches long and weighed seven and one-half pounds. He is being named Harry, in honor of Uncle Hafiz Harakamian, according to the father. That is the good news.”
“It is indeed,” Yiitir said. “Hafiz will be so proud. Well, actually, he always is, but this will please him very much.”
“There is also bad news,” Naarye continued. “Acorna and Aari left without seeing the baby or her fathers. The Federation asked them to help contain the plague.”
“That was to be expected, I suppose,” Yiitir said.
“That is not all. They left young Khorii and Maak’s son Elviiz at Maganos Moonbase, but the younglings took a shuttle to an infected cargo ship and left the system. Since communications are down, nobody knows where they are except, of course, for the guess that they are probably going to try to intercept Aari and Acorna, whose mission is in a star system called the—it is not something we can pronounce. I will write it for you in Standard. S. O. L. O. J. O.”
“My stars, that is rather alarming! The younglings out in space all alone on an infected ship.”
“Not entirely alone. Three of the other students went with them and one of the teachers as well.”
“Ah, well, a teacher,” Maarni said, somewhat relieved.
“The Balakiire stated its intention of joining Aari and Acorna and probably Khorii’s ship as well, but the Federation has requested that we continue to help plague victims and decontaminate critical areas such as the communication chain and health-care facilities. We have agreed, of course, as long as we may maintain our own relay back to MOO as we do so, and the Balakiire is free to seek our friends.”
“That sounds fair enough,” Yiitir said.
“Poor children,” Maarni said. “I hope they can be located soon so that Khorii can return to the safety of her own family.”
“I believe we are all in sympathy with that sentiment, Maarni. Your assignment will be to visit Uncle Hafiz’s headquarters on the planet of Laboue. House Harakamian’s enterprises are crucial to the smooth recovery of this sector, according to the Federation.”
“Delighted, Naarye. You can count on us. Please keep us informed.”
“Yes. Naarye out.”
Chapter 25
The Solojo system, at last!” Khorii said, giving Captain Bates the thumbs-up signal Uncle Joh used to signify he was pleased with the progress of certain events.
“Yep, there’s the sun, and we’re approaching Rio Boca,” the captain said. “Khorii, it’s your turn to take the helm. You kids are coming along very well. Elviiz took very little instruction, Jaya was already fairly familiar with this ship, though she’s a bit vague on programming in courses, Hap was one of my best students and much to my surprise, Marl has taken to piloting like an extinct water-treading avian to—er—water. Even Sesseli has done pretty well at her lessons. You’re going to make me redundant if I don’t watch out.”
“Do we have enough fuel to make it straight to Paloduro?” Khorii asked. “I’d love to see my mother’s and father’s faces when I fly this ship over to rendezvous with the Condor.”
“Looks like it to me,” Captain Bates said.
“We carry extra fuel,” Jaya said. “That’s what cargo bay three is for—extra fuel, extra parts.”
“No problem then,” Khorii said. “We’re on our way.”
She wished Elviiz was there so she could rub his nose in it, just a little. Or Hap, because he’d be pleased. But only Captain Bates, Jaya, Sesseli, and Khorii were on the bridge when she took the helm. And the cats, of course, were sleeping somewhere close by.
Rio Boca was the outermost planet in the Solojo system, but the others were comparatively close in their distance from the sun. All of them had been inhabited for a long time, according to Captain Bates.
“Rio Boca is the ‘port planet’ of this system, where most of the shipping to and from other worlds takes place. It also has a few tourist attractions,” Captain Bates told her.
“Yes!” Jaya said with more animation than Khorii had seen her show before. “Once Mom and Dad and I took a great vacation to the falls. You can see la Catarata de la Llorarona, the Weeping Woman’s Waterfall, from space. I’ll show you when we get closer. Also the Sangre de Frida, Frieda’s Blood in Standard, mountains. The waterfall carries the runoff from them and it’s the head of the river that becomes the Rio Boca when it reaches the Sea of the Pilgrims’ Tears.”
“They have a lot of sad names for things, don’t they?” Khorii asked.
“Well, the earliest colonizers apparently had some difficulties. But it’s a very rich planet. They have lots of good farmland for coffee, bananas, pineapple, and sugar as well as a lot of the kinds of things you like to eat, Khorii. Fruits and veggies and stuff. They also supply a lot of pharmaceutical companies with crops that have medicinal uses. We actually pick up—we did pick up—quite a lot of cargo here to export to other planets. And they have beautiful jewelry here, too! Dad said it was because the rivers and streams—the Rio Boca and all of its tributaries, are full of gemstones and mineral deposits.”
“It looks beautiful even from here,” Khorii said. She had to concentrate not to be hypnotized by the greenery ribboned with sparkly silver-and-turquoise waters.
“The city of Rio Boca is kind of ugly, actually. Full of docking facilities for spaceships and boring warehouses full of goods. But once you get up the river, away from the port, it’s beautiful. Long stretches with no towns or people, just huge plantations.”
“Where does everybody live then?”
Captain Bates said, “They’ve divided this system’s planetary assets into the functions the people here need. Most of the government and administration for the entire system, as well as the banking and many of the fancier homes of officials and wealthy industrialists, are on Dinero Grande, Big Money.”
“I’ve always liked the sound of that one,” Marl said, coming up behind them.
Captain Bates continued, disregarding his comment. “Your parents were supposed to be on Paloduro, which is the planet where most of the population lives. There is some industry there, too, and Corazon, the main city, is famous for its Carnivale, a monthlong masquerade party and parade that was in progress when the plague struck.”
“That’s so sad,” Jaya said. “We got to go to that once, too. It was a lot of fun. I was only little, but Mom made me a leopard costume so I could dance in the parade.”
“I heard something about that when my folks were asked to come here,” Khorii said. “The Federation health official who talked to them said that Paloduro was the last of these three planets to report an outbreak, so they thought Mother and Father could save the most people if they went there first. The plague must have started way earlier though, before it got reported even.”
“How’s that?”
“You know the captain’s log Elviiz uploaded to the ship’s computer for me to read? It was from a derelict luxury liner we found with all the people dead either of plague or killed by the captain to keep them from breaking quarantine. The registration was from Dinero Grande.”
“Now I find that fas
cinating,” Marl said, though nobody was talking to him. “I did when I read that captain’s log, too. What a fix they were in. I recognized a lot of big names from that passenger roster. Not all were from these parts, mind you, but a significant number of them were. Just the trillionaires and local government people, none of the royalty. More’s the pity. I’d love to get my hands on some crown jewels. I’m a romantic that way, I guess. But actually, I’m a farm boy at heart. There are some agricultural crops and their by-products that particularly interest me.”
“You’re not getting your hands on any of it, Fidd, so just forget it,” Captain Bates told him. “Those planets are all still crawling with plague. There’s probably nobody left alive by now.”
“My point exactly,” he said, reaching between the two of them to the instruments. “They’ll have no use for any of it. Why should it go to waste? As for the plague, we have our own little cleaner-upper here in our Khorii,” he said, laying a heavy hand on her shoulder. “It’s perfect, really.”
“Except it’s not gonna happen,” the captain told him.
“Oh, I think it will,” he said. “It seems to me it was meant to be. Here we are in this nice big cargo ship to carry away lots of loot, what with loaders and cargo shuttles and everything and our Khorii to make it all safe as a Federation outpost. Safer, even. It’s fate. Has to be.”
“We are not looters,” Captain Bates said. “We’re helping Khorii with her rescue mission and taking her back to her parents.”
He waved his hand dismissively. “That’s all fine. She can do that, too, especially if we bring up enough stuff to fill the bays. Jaya, sweetie?”
“What?” she demanded, her eyes glittering rebelliously.
“You can save us a lot of time, my love. Find your parents’ files on the layout of Rio Boca’s warehouse district for us, won’t you? That way we can be most efficient by heading straight for the ones with the best goodies.”
[Acorna 08] - First Warning: Acorna's Children (with Elizabeth Ann Scarborough) Page 22