“As you’ve seen, though, put him in a lab, and he’s a totally different person. He becomes so engrossed in his work that he fails to note that there’s a world, or other people, around him. I understand that on several occasions on Acqueon, he came into the lab naked under his isolation suit, or forgot to put on a shirt, or pants, or some other article of clothing. His team got into the habit of forcing him out of the lab and putting a sandwich in his hand once in a while. The way I heard it, if you put it in his hand, he’d eat it; if you set it down, he’d ignore it.
“He was kind of a joke, if you know what I mean. The classic absent-minded professor. But then, he was appointed Director of Epidemiology at the ECDC. I used to feel kind of sorry for him. He was just a figurehead, a trophy for the bureaucrats to show off to help draw grants. I don’t think he’s been very happy. But you’ve awakened the scientist in him. I think you’ve got the best man in the universe for this job, and I’m honored to be on his team.”
She shrugged. “As far as our chances for success are concerned I couldn’t hazard a guess. I doubt it’ll be easy. From what I understand, that ship had a medical staff of twenty-six. Now, none of them were epidemiologists, but the Fleet medical personnel I’ve met have been very competent. And they certainly didn’t lack motivation — their own lives were at stake.
“Of course, we’ve a hundred years’ more experience. If we’re lucky it’ll turn out to be something that’s been identified and beaten during the last century. But to be honest, our techniques and equipment haven’t changed that much.”
She shrugged again. “I honestly don’t know, Commodore. But I’ll admit that I’m relieved to have Ro-Lecton in charge. If anyone can beat this thing, it’ll be him. By the way,” she added, “I’d like to mention that I approve of your precautions. Evacuating that hold and isolating the bio lab with vacuum may turn out to be the smartest thing you’ve done.”
Kas grinned. “It’s not that I’m smart. I’m just scared spitless by that damned bug!”
She nodded. “Me, too.”
The first few ship ‘nights’, Ro-Lecton made it a point to seek Kas out every evening at 2200, to complain about having his cabin’s power shut off and stopping his work. He was also surly and distracted at the evening meal. On several occasions it was necessary for Kas to send someone to drag him to dinner. Luckily, Kor-Nashta seemed to have adopted the little scientist, and usually volunteered to fetch him.
After a week, Ro-Lecton appeared at Kas’ cabin door.
“Commodore,” he began, “I’ve completed my review of the memory crystals. It should no longer be necessary to shut off my power at 2200. Nearly all my work now will be in the bio lab. Nila has it quite well set up, and it seems to be well equipped. And all but three of my team have completed their suit training. Within a day or so I’ll probably need one or more cadavers.”
Kas nodded. “Did you learn anything useful from the crystals, Doctor?”
Ro-Lecton shrugged. “Well, they kept us from having to go over ground they’d already covered, for one thing. They had one med tech, a Lieutenant named Kranit that had a fine mind. He missed hardly a trick. He was the one that most exhaustively tracked the disease’s progression, and he did an outstanding job.”
He sighed. “But if you mean did they give me the answer, I’m afraid not. They did give me some excellent leads, however. The disease displays some of the symptoms and pathologies of Reiber’s Fever, but there are inconsistencies.”
“Do you think you’ll be able to isolate it and devise a cure?”
The chubby little man smiled gently. “That’s the billion-crown question, isn’t it, Commodore? I’m confident that it can be isolated and cured. I’m not as confident that we’ll be able to do it.” He shrugged. “Any pathogen that evolves to occupy carbon-based, oxygen-breathing life forms must be of one of a comparatively few types. And there are only a finite number of ways in which they can affect the functioning of that organism so as to cause death. Eventually, this one will be identified and defenses will be devised. But even assuming that it’s caused by a single organism, and not a synergistic partnership, it could take centuries to isolate it.”
Kas frowned. “We don’t have centuries. We don’t even have years. What we have is months or weeks or days, and damned few of them.”
Ro-Lecton looked puzzled. “What’s the problem, Commodore? I know we were in a race to get here first, but we did. We should have all the time we need.”
Kas shook his head. “Once we’re found, things are going to get interesting. The Rekesh will become an interstellar incident. Oh, we’ve got enough of her weapons working to defend ourselves. For awhile. But as soon as we’re located, you can bet that a couple of the neighboring systems will file a claim on this system and start trying to force the Empire to relinquish its claim on the Rekesh.”
“And that’s assuming that they adhere to the niceties of interstellar diplomacy. They’re just as likely to bring enough force here to overcome even a partially-functional battle cruiser and simply attack, on the theory that they’ll be able to salvage whatever’s left. Or perhaps simply, ‘If we can’t have it, they won’t have it either.’”
“And then,” he added, “there’s always the Glory. There’s no guessing how far they’d go to deprive the ‘Godless’ of a battle cruiser, but I don’t think I want to find out. No, Doctor, we’re still under the gun. We’ve got to find out whether we’ll be able to salvage her, and if so we’ve got months of work to do. Every moment that we’re not on our way back to the Empire, we’re in danger.”
Ro-Lecton’s expression had faded from puzzlement to understanding and finally, determination. He nodded. “We’ll do what we can, Commodore. But you do understand that the odds are against us isolating the cause quickly. I got some leads and ideas from what the ship’s medical staff learned, but still…” He shrugged.
Kas sighed. “I understand, Doctor. I only expect your best efforts. I know there are no guarantees. Uh, about the… uh… cadavers. Do you think your medical people can retrieve them? Or must it be my people?”
Ro-Lecton frowned, and then shrugged. “I don’t know. Does it matter?”
Kas suppressed a shudder. “Yes, I’m afraid it does. I’ve seen that net full of bodies. None of my people are squeamish, but seeing those bodies crammed into that net, well…” This time he couldn’t suppress it. His shudder was jarring.
Ro-Lecton looked bemused. “Really?” He shrugged. “They’re just cadavers, after all.” Then seeing Kas’ expression he resumed. “Well, yes, I suppose my people can retrieve the cadavers. But none of them are very skilled in vacuum. Shouldn’t one of your crew accompany them? For safety reasons?”
Kas sighed. “You’re right, of course. All right. I’ll go with them. But I’m not looking forward to it.”
In the event, it wasn’t as bad as Kas feared. By focusing his attention strictly on the suited med techs he was largely able to avoid watching what they were doing, or handling, while they worked several cadavers free of the net. Once the bodies were gathered, however, it was impossible to avoid looking at them, or handling them.
There were three of them, two men and a woman. None had visible wounds — the med techs wanted the bodies of people they could be certain had died from the disease. The woman and one of the men were even clad in hospital gowns. Thankfully they’d also wanted people who’d survived until near the end, so none of the three were badly decomposed. Actually, their faces looked peaceful. Kas’ face was grim, but after a moment’s hesitation he had no difficulty helping the med techs handle the frozen corpses. He told himself it was like handling statues, not real people. Frozen solid, they certainly felt like statues.
The senior med tech turned to Kas as they were leaving the hangar deck. “We’re also supposed to get a suited one from one of the airlocks, sir.”
Kas nodded. “I’ll go get one. All of you hook your safety lines to deck eyebolts until I get back. And don’t touch any of your suit cont
rols while I’m gone.”
He kicked off, relieved to be moving away from the grisly contents of that damned net. It took only a few minutes to reach the nearest of the occupied personnel locks. He paused, and then clumsily saluted the drifting suited figure before unhooking the suit’s safety line while cursing himself for a sentimental fool. Clipping the safety line to his own suit, he headed back for the hangar deck and the med techs. The suited corpse bobbed along in his wake.
When they returned to Starhopper, Two of the bodies were taken directly into the bio lab — the woman and the suited man. Kas made sure that the other two cadavers were covered with tarps. There was no sense upsetting the troops. Besides it offended his sensibilities to leave the bodies uncovered, as though on display.
He suspected that the med techs had been suppressing snickers at his obvious reluctance to handle the corpses, but frankly he didn’t give a damn. He hoped he’d never learn to be matter-of-fact about handling bodies. He felt that anyone who could handle bodies without confronting his own mortality wasn’t someone he wanted to know.
Things settled into a routine. The medical team was hard at work, and Kas had been forced to allow them to develop their own meal schedule. In fact, meals became rather a hit-or-miss affair generally. Starhopper ’s crew, aided by Lady Jane and Lar, were usually busy aboard Vir Rekesh.
Edro and Toj had begun activating a few of the distributed comps aboard the battle cruiser. One was the stores comp, and Kas stared longingly at the lengthy printout of the resources available on the big ship.
By Fleet regs virtually all Fleet supplies were required to be supplied in airtight containers, and most were vacuum-packed. So Kas had long arguments with himself over whether they should bring things like uniforms aboard.
But he’d determined from the start that nothing from the dead ship would be brought aboard Starhopper except samples and cadavers kept in her evacuated hold or the bio lab, and he reluctantly decided to stick with his decision.
The rest of Starhopper ’s crew had begun the daunting task of trying to find and remove the weapons scattered throughout the Rekesh. Kas was uncomfortably aware that it would be impossible for so few searchers to find every weapon on the huge cruiser. But it would be irresponsible to leave so many weapons scattered around, especially since the crew that was to take her home was an unknown variable.
The ratings sleeping aboard Starhopper were Fleet, but that didn’t mean they were angels. Military personnel have always had a reputation for hard drinking and fast living; when you so frequently place your life on the line, somehow decorum and tastefulness no longer seem as important as they might to a civilian. Alcohol, drugs and weapons added up to a deadly mix.
But there were problems. In the absolute blackness aboard the Rekesh, their suit lights created moving, jerking shadows that imposed themselves on the crew’s attention. The shadows combined with the total silence to make them all uneasy. They found themselves suddenly whirling around, searching for the source of movement detected by peripheral vision, only to realize almost immediately that it was a shadow cast by their own suit lights.
It was a strain. It became an uncomfortable haunted feeling. No matter how often they told themselves it was ridiculous, morale was declining. Kas found his crew — and himself — more and more reluctant to go aboard the derelict.
Toj wanted to activate more of Rekesh ’s fusactors to power the comps and provide light, at least. Kas agonized over the decision before realizing that if they had to push her into the sun it would scarcely matter how many of her fusactors were hot. And light would help. He authorized the powering of lights, but he cautioned Toj not to activate the gravs or any other life support facilities.
Despite expecting it they were all startled when the derelict suddenly erupted in light. They breathed a huge sigh of relief and exchanged sheepish glances.
The light reduced the tension, but it also revealed the grim condition of what had been a proud warship.
Damage was everywhere, but wasn’t all battle damage. Much of it was simple vandalism. Most of the rest was the remains of what appeared to have been the biggest, longest party in the galaxy.
Least damaged seemed to be the staterooms and berthing areas. Some of them even appeared perfectly orderly, as though their owners had simply stepped out for a moment. In others, globules of frozen blood or vomit drifted lazily in the vacuum. Some bunks were neatly made; others were mussed and bloodstained.
The most battle-damaged area seemed to be the Engineering decks. Here, barricade after barricade gave mute testimony to besieged crewpeople fighting off repeated, desperate attackers. Maybe they’d wanted to overload the fusactors in a massive suicide pact, or maybe they thought they could fly the Rekesh somewhere. Whatever the reason for the attacks, there had been a series of brutal and bloody battles here.
Other fighting areas had been officers’ country and the passages leading to the Combat Information Center and the Bridge. Weapons drifted everywhere. They had to be gathered up and armfuls carried to the nearest airlock to be thrown overboard.
Except for a few very expensive versions intended for orbital construction projects space suits are not designed for long periods of working occupancy. Nor are they designed to be easily donned or removed. For Kas’ crew, maneuvering through narrow passages and trying to bend and twist in the clumsy suits to locate hidden or partially-hidden weapons for hours per day became increasingly exhausting. For the medical team it began to seem that they were constantly getting into or out of the suits and exchanging them for isolation suits in the lab. There were half-serious complaints that they spent more time changing clothes than working. Days began to blur into weeks.
Kas had just removed his helmet and was beginning to remove his suit when the alarm sounded. He grabbed the helmet and pulled it back on.
“Bridge, Preslin here. What’s happening?”
“We don’t know yet, sir,” came Gran’s voice. “The alarm came from the bio lab.”
Cursing, Kas rechecked his suit seals and used the airlock’s manual controls to cycle the lock. He hurried across the hold to the bio lab.
As he reached for the bio lab’s airlock control, the lock began cycling. Kas stepped back as a suited figure began to emerge.
“Preslin here,” he said, “What’s happened?”
The figure started. “Oh! Uh, Commodore! I was just coming to report. It’s Doctor Kor-Nashta. She’s been contaminated. Oh, uh, I’m Med Tech Vil-Norris, sir. Doctor Ro-Lecton sent me to report.”
Kas was irritated. “Then report, dammit! What happened?”
“Uh, yes, sir. Uh, we had thawed one of the suited cadavers and were starting the autopsy. Dr. Kor-Nashta was cutting the suit off. The beam cutter slipped, and sliced into her isolation suit. Of course, atmosphere from the suit had already contaminated the lab.
“As soon as Doctor Kor-Nashta’s suit detected the breach it sent a blast of high-pressure air through the umbilical and sealed the doctor’s umbilical. The system worked, but Doctor Kor-Nashta’s been exposed to the contamination.”
It was like a blow. Kas had come to know and like Nila Kor-Nashta. Now, unless Ro-Lecton and his people could isolate a cure for the plague she was doomed. Her cheerful good humor had helped keep morale up. Not to mention that she had become Ro-Lecton’s chief keeper, insuring the absent-minded scientist got washed, fed and dressed. In fact, Kas suspected that romance was blooming between the two epidemiologists — or at least it would when Ro-Lecton began once again to notice the rest of humanity. Kas nodded grimly. “All right, you can get back to the bio lab. I imagine they need you right now, and they certainly don’t need me. Tell Ro-Lecton to keep me posted. No, don’t bother. Tell whoever his new deputy will be to do it.”
Even through the suit faceplate Kas could see the med tech’s shocked expression. “But, sir! Doctor Kor-Nashta is the director’s deputy. Surely you don’t think he would relieve her?”
Kas had assumed just that, but he now re
alized that even if Doctor Kor-Nashta were infected and they didn’t find a cure for the plague, it would be weeks before she became too sick to function.
He flushed. “Of course. I’m sorry. I didn’t think.”
The med tech nodded. “We’ll keep you posted, sir.”
Kas returned to the airlock deep in thought. He hadn’t considered it, but of course the bio lab’s atmosphere had become contaminated. This would be the second suited body they’d worked on. Perhaps he hadn’t wanted to think about it. Knowing that plague-contaminated atmosphere was separated from the inhabited portions of Starhopper by mere meters of vacuum was unsettling. He knew that vacuum and decontam were virtually absolute security — but still…
The bio lab had not been designed for continuous occupancy. As soon as he unsuited Kas called Toj to his cabin.
“We’ll need to figure out how to build a sleeping accommodation for Doctor Kor-Nashta onto the bio lab,” he said. “We also have to figure out a way to deliver food. I assume there’s already a way to deliver water.”
Toj nodded. “Yes, sir. As for food, I just don’t know.” He shrugged. “Perhaps we can take a food synthesizer from one of the Rekesh ’s auxiliaries and build it into the sleeping accommodation. Then all we’d have to deliver would be the raw supplies.”
Kas nodded. “Good. Since the lab has already been contaminated, I think I can make an exception for a food synthesizer. But how are you going to build onto a lab that’s already contaminated?”
Toj shrugged. “I don’t anticipate any problem, sir. I’ll just weld together a box oh, say, three meters by four. It won’t even need an airlock. I’ll put a bunk and all the other stuff inside, then bond it to the bio lab, go inside in an isolation suit and cut a doorway.”
Kas chuckled. “You certainly make it sound simple.” His smile faded. “I wish it weren’t necessary.”
Toj nodded again. “Me too, sir. Doctor Kor-Nashta… well, she’s good people. Don’t worry, Commodore. I’ll fix her up nice and cozy.”
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