She walked through the beds, taking note of vital signs. About half the patients appeared to have stabilized with the measures being taken, but the remaining victims were critical. Several who were elderly, or who had weakened or compromised immune systems had died in the past two and a half days. Their bodies been conveyed as unobtrusively as possible to the cryo deck for preservation. Stage two progressed at different rates in its victims and as yet she had no idea what variables affected the speed of organ failure, besides the obvious factor of how healthy the person had been at the onset of symptoms. Emily wished she could consult with experts on hemorrhagic diseases but as yet Captain Fleming refused to break out of hyperspace to send any further communication. He wanted to reach Sector Hub with all possible speed and hand off the patients. She and Maeve had done as much research as they could in Maeve’s databanks. Emily had her staff trying a variety of supportive measures but so far nothing looked remotely like a cure.
The best she could do was keep people alive and help their immune systems fight the battle. Prehistoric medicine, in effect.
Emily’s steps slowed as she reached the last two beds, where Mrs. Enzell and her son lay nearly comatose but able to see each other in fleeting moments of consciousness. These two were definitely fighters, gifted with strong immune systems. Emily thought it was best to have family members close together for moral support, although that had backfired once already when a husband passed away with his wife in the next bed. She sighed. There was no one right way to handle this outbreak, so she was making it up as she went, just trying to do her best for the patients.
Wearing her suit as ordered, Mrs. Fenn was seated between the Enzells, knitting, lavender and turquoise yarn today, with a hot green accent.
Emily wondered if she realized the knitting would have to be decontaminated or destroyed.
Mrs. Fenn set aside what she was working on as Emily walked up. “Mother and son have been peaceful, Dr. Shane. My husband did rounds a little while ago and said both were critical but stable. I was reading to the boy earlier. He’s strong. If anyone can survive this, he will. He might be your first to recover.” She patted the unconscious youth’s shoulder. “I hope so anyway.”
“I’m so grateful for the two of you. And the others who’ve come to help, of course.” Emily felt constrained to add the second remark, trying to maintain the polite fiction that Hillier in particular was a willing volunteer and noble public citizen. There were always people close by in this ward to overhear any conversation.
“If you want to authorize the Ship to share the data with me, I can do a bit of analysis,” Mrs. Fenn offered. She stretched her fingers wide, massaging the left hand with the right. “I don’t have to sit here and knit in between dealing with bedpans, you know. All those years of research, writing papers and analyzing statistical results I have on my résumé are good for something. I’ve wanted to volunteer, but you’re so busy.”
“Handing you those mountains of data would be terrific. I know I have to find time to go over Maeve’s report in more detail for myself, but—” Emily gestured at the beds surrounding them and stretching along the bulkhead in the vast room, indicating her massive caseload. “I have priorities. Even a preliminary cut of the data would be helpful. I’ll have the ship give you a terminal in the admin workstation area.” She checked her wrist chrono. “I have to go. Staff meeting in five. See you later, Mrs. Fenn.”
“Don’t forget to eat dinner.” The elderly woman resumed her knitting.
“I won’t.” Smiling to herself, Emily headed toward the corridor, made her pass through the decon chamber and sprinted to the small conference room where her motley staff waited. She conducted daily briefings at seven a.m. and seven p.m., ship time, to share status and updates. Someone had kept the seat at the head of the table clear for her. Probably Jake. Gratefully, she slid into the chair. She pointed at Sid and his cameraman. “I’m sure by now you’ve met Mr. Daburkn and his shadow, Carrl. Captain Fleming and the CLC Line have authorized him to make a documentary about the crisis we’re facing. He needs your permission and the patient’s permission, or their family’s release, before filming any individual.”
There was grumbling around the table, but Emily swept ruthlessly onward. “Meg, what are the day’s statistics?”
“Four hundred new admissions to quarantine. Five deaths since the morning briefing. Maeve is monitoring the remaining passengers and crew known to have suffered stage-one Groskin’s.”
“No new cases of stage one?” Hillier asked.
Meg shook her head. “Not for four days now.”
Emily counted back to the day she’d first set foot on the Nebula Zephyr. Had she really been on board this ship for only two weeks? It felt like a year.
“Perhaps my cleaning and the crew’s efforts at decontamination should receive the credit for the respite from new stage one cases.” The ever present but invisible Maeve was part of the meeting.
“Speaking as a person with no medical background whatsoever, this seems weird,” Jake said. “Why aren’t more people coming down with stage one? Any why aren’t all the ones who had stage one progressing to stage two? Not that I want anyone else to get deathly ill, obviously I don’t. But situations that don’t add up frustrate me. Unknowns are dangerous.”
“We have no way of knowing the answers to your excellent questions, until or unless we figure out what caused the outbreak in the first place,” Emily said. “Even with a well understood disease, each case may be different, based on the patient. There’s a general course of progression but within the parameters there will be variation, outliers. People who should recover easily die. People who should from all the indications succumb, recover and leave the hospital. And we don’t begin to understand Groskin’s. Mrs. Fenn is going to take over the research, by the way, so I’m hoping we’ll make progress in that area.” Grimacing, she added, “I’ve been working on it for several hours a day, with Maeve, but epidemiology is not my strong skill set. And as for teasing viruses and micro-organisms out of tissue samples…that takes abilities I never needed before.”
“What are the odds the other two thousand or so healthy passengers who never suffered stage one symptoms will remain in good health?” Sid asked.
“Let’s don’t get ahead of ourselves. We should be glad for small favors and hope the virus doesn’t manifest again with new cases.” Emily sipped at the mug of coffee Jake pushed in her direction. She raised an eyebrow at him as she discovered it was the real stuff. He winked. Had he raided Fleming’s private store? Trying not to choke on a laugh, she checked her notes. “Staffing?”
Without consulting any notes, Meg reported, “We got five more volunteers from passengers and crew, with varying levels of medical experience. One’s a dentist. No more MD’s on board, however.”
Emily nodded, aware she was stalling, not wanting to share the bad news the captain had given her earlier. “Maeve, how are our supplies of medications?”
“Assuming there are no new stage one cases, which progress to stage two, and also assuming the stage two mortality rate remains unchanged, I can generate coagulants and IV solutions for five more days. Then my stores will be exhausted. I’ve already diverted all the raw materials I can.”
“What does that mean?” Jake asked.
“It means we won’t be able to continue treating the stage two symptoms, once Maeve runs out. Since no one has recovered, we don’t know how long it takes for the disease to run its course, assuming death isn’t the only outcome.” Emily leaned back in her chair, weariness flowing over her in a wave. “People will expect us to treat them, and we’ll have nothing to offer.”
“Transfusions from live donors?” Meg asked.
“A stopgap at best.” Hillier’s voice was flat.
“Can we put them all into cryo? Halt the disease?” Jake was grasping at any solution.
Emily shook her head. “There aren’t enough empty cryo pods. The captain refuses to wake the healthy passengers insid
e the pods and potentially expose them to Groskin’s, to make room for the infected. I can’t guarantee him that putting sick people into cryo will help. For all we know, the virus might thrive in the cryo environment. Patient dies, virus lives maybe.” Checking the expressions on the faces of her support team, Emily sensed they were as appalled as she was by the situation facing the occupants of the Nebula Zephyr. Even Hillier had a shell-shocked expression on his face. “I appreciate any and all suggestions, but I think we’ve exhausted ourselves for tonight. There is one more thing.”
Several people were already in the act of rising to leave but resumed their seats at her serious tone.
“As you know, the captain did drop the ship out of hyperspace today briefly to send a transmission and await a reply. Captain Fleming has notified me that the Sectors authorities have refused us permission to orbit Sector Hub.”
There were exclamations of dismay and curses around the table.
“Since the virus is unknown and there’s no apparent cure, or even an effective treatment, the authorities are concerned,” she said, repeating what Fleming had told her.
“Even if we prevent anyone from leaving the ship?” Jake asked.
“Apparently, the Sectors authorities aren’t convinced we can guarantee a complete lockdown. The government is afraid of another incident like Nendateal Seven thirty years ago.” Emily swallowed hard. A cruise ship had landed its shuttles there full of dead and dying passengers, and eventually the entire population of the planet perished. The disease involved was never identified, much less cured, and the planet had been burned off as a precaution.
“So what is their plan to help us?” Dr. Dalimir asked. “Does the government have one?”
“Surely the authorities aren’t proposing to let everyone die?” Face white as a sheet, Sid stared at Emily.
Good thing the stolid Carrl was doing the actual filming, as nothing seemed to faze him. At times he acted as if the entire situation was just a scripted drama. Maybe that was his way of protecting himself from panic. “The captain tells me we’ve been ordered to change course to a gas giant in a barren system and take up orbit there. The Sectors has promised to send a military hospital ship to our aid.” She took her time, checking the way each person was reacting, wishing she’d had better news to impart. “But it’ll take the hospital ship and her escort ten days after we arrive to reach us. This system we’re being sent to is quite remote.”
“So basically we’ll all be dead,” Hillier said. “Why am I not surprised? The captain shouldn’t have reported this outbreak until we arrived at Sector Hub.”
“Captain Fleming did his duty.” Maeve sounded offended. “I have enough supplies to keep the healthy passengers and crew alive, by the way.”
Emily looked straight at Sid. “This is all confidential. You signed an addendum to your contract, remember? If word gets out to the other passengers, there could be a riot. Right now people are fairly calm, since two-thirds of those on board remain healthy.”
The filmmaker nodded. “No problem. I don’t want my wife at risk in any way. Not wanting to risk my own skin either, not for a trideo, okay?” He scratched his chin. “This decision won’t make the Sectors authorities appear in a favorable light when the documentary airs, though.”
“Any more surprises, or is the meeting over?” Hillier asked.
“I’m done for today.” Emily waved her hand wearily toward the door. “See all of you in the morning.”
Jake remained behind. “Are you taking breaks during the day? Resting?”
“Yes and yes. Meg and Mrs. Fenn keep after me.” She rubbed her shoulder and slumped in her chair. “How was your day?”
He came to stand behind her and massaged her shoulders. “This and that. Some rabble-rouser started a rumor on board claiming Falyn’s illegal pet was the cause of the outbreak.”
“Which we can’t deny for sure, but the evidence strongly suggests Midorri isn’t to blame. Only Arln and one other person in Falyn’s entourage got sick, and her pet was never out of the suite, except for the single visit to sickbay.” Emily felt comfortable that the small, sneezing creature couldn’t be to blame for the shipwide illness. “I analyzed Midorri’s blood and other samples and found no pathogen capable of causing these symptoms in a human.”
“I know.” His tone was reassuring. “My staff prevented the small mob from getting into the corridor where Her Highness has her suite. I think we were successful in keeping the princess from even being aware there was a problem. It just goes to show how easily people panic.”
“But also demonstrates someone still wants to make trouble for poor Falyn.”
“Yes.” He sounded distracted.
“Should we be worried?” Emily grabbed his wrists and twisted at the waist to see his face. “Could she be in danger?”
“Let me deal with security. You have enough on your plate. Speaking of which, free for dinner?”
“Yes, I’ve just done rounds. I’m tired, though, Jake. We can catch a quick bite in the wardroom if you want.”
“What I have in mind is to escort you to your cabin, order in some nourishing comfort food and make sure you rest for a while. Someone needs to take care of you, Doc, and I’ve promoted myself into the job.”
“Sounds heavenly.”
Jake escorted her off the quarantine deck, putting his arm around her as soon as they were in the crew gravlift. She leaned on him gratefully, head on his shoulder. “I am tired. I wish someone—anyone—would pull through Groskin’s and we could officially upgrade their condition. We all need a glimmer of hope.”
“If it can be done, you’ll do it,” he said.
“And if it can’t? If there is no cure? Do we stand by and watch a thousand people die?”
“Keeping as many of them alive as you can is a victory. Once the hospital ship catches up to us, you’ll have the Sectors resources working to help you.”
“Fleming isn’t going to the rendezvous point,” she said. “He told me he believes it’s a death sentence for us all, a trap. Maybe not intentional, but the end result would be none of us ever goes home.”
“He told me that too.” Jake was silent for a moment. “No one can pinpoint where we are as long as we stay in hyperdrive. But when we suddenly arrive at Sector Hub? All hell breaks loose.”
“Did he mention to you that he’s relying on a number of prominent and influential people among the healthy passengers to sway the authorities to allow us to stay at Hub?”
Nodding, Jake said, “He’s been meeting with them surreptitiously, one on one. Way above my pay grade. Glad it’s Fleming in charge and not me. He could be right, though. I like the boldness of the plan.” He rubbed his chin and frowned. “I’ll have to increase security to ensure no one steals a shuttle and tries to land.”
“Any special requests for dinner?” Jake asked as they exited the gravlift together and walked in a leisurely manner toward her cabin.
“I leave the menu in your capable hands. I’m going to go take a shower and change into something more comfortable.” Emily stood on her tiptoes to give him a kiss on the cheek and headed for the bathroom.
After a luxurious half hour or so under the hot-water jets, she felt like a new person. Belting her robe and grabbing her hairbrush, she strolled barefoot into the main cabin, enticed by the delicious aroma of a Chef Stephanie special dinner. Jake was putting the finishing touches on arranging the dishes and pouring wine. He glanced up as she came closer, eyeing her critically from head to toe. “You look better.”
“Thanks a lot, flatterer. Nothing like extravagant praise to cheer a woman up after a tough day.” Laughing, she took a final yank of the brush through her hair and sat in her chair.
He caressed her cheek lightly with his fingertips. “Those shadows under your eyes were worrying me, Doc, but now you’re glowing.”
“Enough hot water will put roses in a girl’s cheeks. So what do we have here?”
“Fresh bread, for a start.” Handin
g her the basket of assorted rolls, he named off the other dishes he’d ordered, ending with an apology. “Sorry there aren’t any flowers for the table.”
“I don’t have to have flowers,” she said. “As long as you ordered us Chocolate Decadence Supreme for dessert, I’ll forgive the omission.”
He showed her the plate off to the side. “One Decadence, two forks.” Admonishing her sternly, he said, “Dinner first.”
“Your mother’s influence?”
“Good nutrition is important for a growing boy,” he said virtuously. “I shouldn’t have to tell you that.”
“Merely testing the depth of your knowledge.” Emily took a bite of the stuffed pasta and rolled her eyes, moaning in sensory pleasure as the layers of flavor flooded her mouth. “Heavenly. For all her temper, the lady can cook.”
He reached over and wiped a bit of sauce from the corner of her mouth, licking his finger clean sensuously, all the while keeping his gaze locked on hers. “Does taste good.”
A little flustered, Emily reached for her wine glass. “Anything else interesting happen today?”
“It’s kinda strange having two-thirds of the passengers healthy and trying to enjoy their cruise like nothing’s happening.” Jake frowned. “I don’t want a panic. I know there’s nothing the uninfected can do to help the sick.”
“I have had a few more volunteers,” Emily said. “I’m grateful for all the help we can get.”
“More than ever, I feel like we’re on two ships combined into one. The cruise ship and the plague ship. It’s disorienting for those of us who move between the two situations.” Jake sat back in his chair, rubbing his neck. “I’m not complaining—I’m relieved we don’t have the entire shipboard population infected with Groskin’s, but it’s like sitting on a ticking bomb. The situation seems under control but isn’t, you know? I think it’s a testimonial to the crew that they can keep the healthy passengers calm and well enough entertained and fed, to stay calm and co-operative.”
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