by Neal Jones
Kiran frowned as he listed, and then asked, "What was so unique about this virus that it took that long to isolate it?"
"I don't know. I'm not a doctor, and Kiirs explained it to me once, but I still didn't quite understand it. But I do know that he – along with most everyone else on the project - was convinced that it had been engineered in some lab and purposely released into the general population on Callistar. For the last thirty years I've been trying to find out why – we all have – but we still don't understand it."
"And now it's happening again?"
"Yes. On Dakthar. The population there is about half of what it is on Callistar, but so far the fatality count is around forty thousand."
Kiran shook his head, stunned once more. "Is it the same virus?"
Kravis shrugged. "Who knows? As far as we can tell, Sarvok acts as if nothing is happening. He hasn't ordered any relief aid, hasn't summoned any medical teams, hasn't quarantined the colony – no response at all."
"But how do you know that? You told me earlier that all public communications are under strict government control."
"We have our own underground communications network, remember?"
"But even still, it takes time for coded messages to make it back and forth without being intercepted. I'm an engineer, Kravis. I don't know a lot about covert comm channels and frequency coding, but I find it hard to believe – even in a dictatorship and police state – that the Dakr'o wouldn't respond in even the most basic manner to this type of emergency."
"Yeah, well, you know only what I've told you so far. Just wait until we arrive on Dakthar. You'll get to see with your own eyes what life in this 'police state' is like."
"You still haven't told me what all of this has to do with me," Kiran replied irritably, pushing away his empty bowl.
"Trust me when I tell you, Kiran, that Sarvok Thrale has done nothing to respond to this new outbreak. The local doctors and the hospitals there aren't quite overwhelmed with bodies just yet, but the situation is very close to a red line. The last I heard, there were very few empty beds in the patient wards, and the death depositories are filling up fast."
"Death depositories? You mean where dead bodies are stored?"
"Yeah." Kravis played absently with his spoon, tapping it on the rim of his bowl. When he looked at Kiran, the EarthCorps officer was startled by the expression of deep regret in Kravis' eyes. "I'm very sorry, Kiran, but we had no choice. We knew about your mother, we knew she was still alive, and we knew that the only way we were going to get a response from the Federation was to kidnap one of their officers."
"That's all I know, captain. It's the same as the after-action report I delivered to the commander of the FCI team thirty years ago. Nothing has changed. I know that FCI has suspicions otherwise, but I have not had any contact with anyone from Mykahr space since I left."
"Why would they think otherwise?" Gabriel wondered.
Amelia shrugged. "Who knows? My opinion of anyone who works for Central Intelligence is that they are suspicious by nature. And I don't blame them for keeping an eye on me ever since Kiran's birth. I was actually paid a visit in person by two FCI agents, and they interrogated me for close to six hours about my relationship with Doctor Roanok. They were not happy at all that I had left that out in my summary mission report." She gave a weak smile. "In the end, however, they had no grounds on which to arrest me, but there was no doubt in my mind that I – and my son – would be closely watched by FCI for some time. And we were."
"Thank you," Barnes interrupted, rising. "You've been a great help, doctor. What quarters are you staying in?"
"I haven't been assigned any yet. I came directly here from the docking port."
The captain nodded. "Please notify me when you have quarters. I will be contacting you regularly in the next several days as this case develops. Commodore, will you be accompanying me to the security office?"
"I'll be there shortly, captain." Gabriel rose, plastering a smile on his face.
Barnes nodded, turned on his heel, and marched from the room. As soon as the door closed, Gabriel sat, shaking his head and sighing.
"Well..." Amelia commented, "he seems like a nice enough prick."
"Yes," Gabriel chuckled. "He is." He watched the doctor sip her tea, noticing the pinched corners of her tired face. He leaned forward. "Doctor –"
"Please call me Amelia. I'm sure we're going to get to know one another quite well in these next few days."
Gabriel smiled, nodding. "As long as you call me Marc."
She gave a weary nod, setting her empty cup and saucer back on the desk. "I think I am going to go take a nap. Please excuse me."
"If there's anything you need, Amelia, please let me know."
She nodded again and Gabriel watched the door close after her before returning his attention to the paperwork on his desk. Only when his commlink beeped did he remember where he was supposed to be, and he charged out of his office to go smooth Navarr's ruffled feathers.
Kiran stared at Kravis in disbelief. "That's it?? That's the only reason I'm here??"
"Well, what did you expect?"
"I don't know," Kiran sighed. "I guess I shouldn't be that surprised." He leaned back, scrubbing a hand over his face, and then stared across the room at Negara. He shook his head again and then looked at Kravis. "You really think that by holding me ransom the Federation is going to willingly send in another team of specialists to deal with this outbreak? As simple as that, eh?"
"No, of course not. This is just the first step in a very long and very complicated negotiation process. It's all about politics, Kiran. The Federation has ignored the situation here in Mykahr space for the last 300 years. The only exception was when Malkris Thrale requested their aid in the outbreak on Callistar. To be perfectly honest, I'm still not sure why the Draathma Parliament agreed to the request in the first place. But whatever the reason, they did respond, and I believe that when we explain to them about the new outbreak on Dakthar, they will respond in the same way again."
"So why kidnap me? Why not send a covert distress call into Federation space? The FCI knows of the Anli'Sar, right? Their agents briefed them on the current political climate here thirty years ago? Surely the FCI would have established some kind of covert listening post on our side of the border just in case."
"Yes," Kravis replied quietly. "They did. And yes, we transmitted a message to them over a month ago. We explained about the outbreak on Dakthar. Back then there was less than two thousand fatalities, but we could tell right away that the situation was rapidly getting out of hand, and we knew that the Dakr'o wasn't going to do a damn thing about it. So we sent a communiqué across the border, and we waited for a response."
"And you're certain it was received?"
Kravis shook his head. "Not entirely, no. But we do know there is a listening post on a planetoid about three light years inside the Federation border. We sent the distress call on an open frequency, one that we knew would be monitored. The odds are very good that that message made it into the right hands."
"There was no response?"
"None. We've been monitoring all channels and frequencies, as much as we can without getting caught by the Ulno'n. There's been no response, not even an acknowledgement of our message. We had to assume that FCI ignored our call for help, so we were forced to resort to stronger measures."
"Son of a bitch," Kiran muttered, shaking his head. He glanced once more around the cramped room, and then asked, "Have you already sent a ransom demand?"
Kravis shook his head. "Not just yet. I wanted to wait until I had explained everything to you. That's the next item on this agenda."
"And what are you going to do if the Federation refuses to cooperate? You just gonna strap me in a lifepod, shoot me back across the border, and then come up with plan C?"
Kravis grimaced, avoiding Kiran's gaze. "No."
"So then…what's the next step if this one fails?"
"Kiran," Kravis interrupted, l
ooking at him. "You have my word. You're not going to be harmed.
"Really?" Kiran retorted. "The fact that you have to tell me that does not reassure me at all! How do I even know you are who you say you are?" He could hear the panic creeping into his tone, and he cleared his throat, glancing once more at Negara. She was busy at the counter, serving up dishes for two more Mykahrians who had entered the room. They were both men, about the same age as Kravis, though it was hard to judge since Kiran had never been around others of his own species. The men ignored Kravis and Garrett as they headed to a table in the opposite corner.
"Kiran, look at me." Garrett reluctantly obeyed. "I realize how all of this must sound to you, and I understand your fear and confusion. I would feel the same way if I was in your position. And I realize that you have no good reason to trust me, but right now you don't have any other choice. I don't know what's going to happen next. I'm…" he hesitated.
"You're not the one in charge," Kiran finished. "Right?"
"No. The anvar of this ship – his name is Jisaad – he's the commanding officer."
"Anvar? Is that the same as captain?"
Kravis nodded. "Every man and woman on this ship – there's twenty-seven of us total – is a member of the Anli'Sar. We're one of many resistance cells, and we operate primarily around the Dakthar colony. That's why Jisaad volunteered us for this mission. Our people are the ones suffering from the outbreak. It's our wives, our daughters, our sons, our husbands that are dying."
Kiran nodded. "And how far will Jisaad go to get the Federation's attention? If a ransom demand doesn't work, what then?"
"He's not going to kill you, Kiran." Kravis stood, reaching for his empty bowl. "Not everyone who claims loyalty to the Anli'Sar is a terrorist. If this tactic doesn't work, we'll find another way. Come on."
"You're going to introduce me to Jisaad?"
"Yes. And then we're going to record the message. I want the FCI to see you unharmed and safe."
"And then?"
Kravis nodded to Negara as he set his bowl on the counter. "Then I show you to your quarters and you get some sleep."
Kiran nodded, apprehensive as he followed Kravis out of the room. Now that he had eaten some real food and stretched his legs, he could feel the exhaustion of the last few days settling even deeper into his bones. A bed and pillow sounded extremely inviting just now, but a corner of his mind continued to gnaw on everything he had just discussed with Kravis. Kiran was relatively certain that he would sleep about as well on this ship as he had in the Xaric's cargo hold.
( 2 )
"You look exhausted." Mariah watched Jennifer poke at her salad, her head down, obviously lost in thought. "Jen?"
"Huh? Oh, sorry." She forced a smile. "What did you say?"
"I said you look exhausted. Is Jeremy still having his night terrors?"
"No," Jennifer sighed, glancing across the restaurant. She and Decev had snagged an early lunch at one of the cafés on the promenade, and more customers were starting to trickle in the door as the midday hour approached. "He doesn't cry at bedtime as much as he used to, and he only wakes up a couple times every night. But I'm still the one who has to rock him back to sleep."
Mariah frowned, swallowing her bite of lettuce and tomato. "Is everything okay between you and Ben?"
Jennifer gave a mirthless snort, and then reached for her glass of iced tea. "It's as good as ever, I guess," she replied with a shrug.
Decev laid aside her fork and reached for her own glass. "Jen, I know it's none of my business, but if you ever want to talk –"
"I'm thinking of divorcing Ben," Jennifer interrupted quietly.
Mariah set down her glass, nodding slowly. "Oh."
"Please don't say anything to anyone, and I mean anyone! This cannot get back to Ben at all."
"Of course." Mariah glanced around the fairly empty restaurant. They were at a table near the back, in a cozy corner well out of earshot of the other patrons. "Jen, are you still…"
"Depressed?"
Mariah nodded.
"I don't know. Maybe. I'm taking the medication Doctor Nals prescribed, but all it does is just make me…numb. I just don't feel anything. I don't think it's working. You think I'm overreacting, don't you?"
"No. You just had a baby, and for all our wonderful advances in medical science over the last three hundred years, we still haven't been able to cure postpartum depression."
Jennifer snorted again. "Ironic, isn't it?" She paused, toying with her napkin and staring at her half-eaten plate of chef's salad. When she looked up, she said, "Nothing's changed between us. We even went to a counselor a few months ago, right after I had that meltdown in the PTL with you that one day. Ben went for two sessions, and then said he wasn't going anymore. He didn't think we needed it. I went a couple more times, and by then I was on this new stuff Doctor Nals prescribed, and for awhile everything did feel better."
"Everything? Or you?"
Jennifer gave a slight smile, nodding. "Both, I guess. I thought I was finally happy living here on the station, and Jeremy wasn't crying as much at night as he did when we first brought him home from the infirmary, so…I thought everything was good."
Mariah nodded. "But nothing's changed."
"No. Ben and I are fighting worse than we were when we first moved here. It doesn't matter anymore what sets us off."
"Like what?"
Jennifer stabbed a chunk of lettuce and ham with her fork. "You're going to think this is so stupid, and I can't believe this is what we were fighting about last night, but it really did happen." She chewed slowly, shaking her head. After she swallowed, she said sheepishly, "I got so pissed off at Ben, and all he did was change the channel of the program I was watching on the HT."
Mariah gave an involuntary laugh, and then quickly coughed, wiping her mouth with her napkin. "Sorry."
"No. No, it's all right. You can laugh. I wasn't even watching anything in particular, it was just some movie or something. I had just put Jeremy down, and I was exhausted, but I didn't want to go to bed right then. So I decided to watch some HT, and ten minutes later he comes out of the bedroom, plops down beside me, and changes the channel. Didn't ask what I was watching, didn't ask if I minded if he changed to something else – no, he just changed the channel without so much as a word."
"What did you do?"
"I was pissed. I yanked the wand out of his hand and asked him why the fuck he changed my channel."
Decev's eyes widened. "And?"
Jennifer shook her head, smiling ruefully. "He just stared at me for a second, stunned, and then he asked me what the hell was wrong with me. It went downhill from there. We argued for ten minutes, and then I locked him out of the bedroom for the rest of the night." She pushed away her plate and sighed. "The thing is, I still don't understand what it was that made me so…angry with him just then. It was like this…this blind rage that came out of nowhere. It's almost as if every little thing that he does is just so damn irritating; stuff that never used to bother me. A few months ago, if he had changed the channel all of a sudden like that, it wouldn't have bothered me. He knew I wasn't really watching anything, and he's done that before. And yet, this time was different. It was so infuriating that I lashed out without even thinking. I don't know if it's just me, or if it's the antidepressants, or what, but I just can't take any of this anymore."
"And you think divorcing him is the answer?"
"I don't know." She motioned to the waiter. "All I know is, I've been unhappy for the last year, and I think I need to go back home to Earth. For more than three months this time." She swiped her credit chip over the pad the waiter held out, and then stood. "Please don't say anything to anyone."
"Of course not."
"Thanks. Lunch was on me. See you later."
Mariah nodded, frowning as watched her friend leave the restaurant and disappear into the throng of midday shoppers on the promenade.
( 3 )
Ilkara took a breath to calm herself
and then pressed the door chime. She'd received the summons earlier this morning, and she'd barely been able to contain her excitement at having a private audience with Oryakk. The door slid aside to reveal Lanoth.
"Ilkara? Please come in?"
"Thank you. I must say that I'm surprised you weren't assigned quarters in the alien sector. I have heard that the atmosphere of the Tiralan homeworld is extremely gaseous and very dense. Surely that environment would suit Oryakk better than this." She motioned to the relatively empty room.
"True? But then I would be unable to attend to the representor's needs? Our environmental suits are quite bulky and cumbersome? And, as you can see from my height, I would have even greater trouble moving about in the alien sector?"
Ilkara smiled, nodding. "I see your point."
Lanoth pointed one of his long, slender fingers towards a nearby door. "The representor is waiting?"
"Thank you." Ilkara took another calming breath as she entered the adjacent room. The lighting was dim, and a visor had been activated over the large viewport to the left of the door, effectively blocking the starlight.
All of the furniture had been removed, and the Tiralan was standing in a shadowed corner, his face turned away from the door. When Ilkara entered, he slowly turned to face her.
"Hello," the Erayan said.
"A greeting upon you. I am grateful for your visit."
"I'm pleased as well. I have many questions for you."
"And I for you. If it is agreeable to you, our communion will be much improved if I am allowed to join with you."
"Join with me? Do you mean telepathically?"
Oryakk made a slight movement with his head that Ilkara interpreted as a nod. "Essentially, yes. But a joining of my kind is much greater. However, your mind and your physiology would be able to withstand the process, I believe."
Ilkara nodded. "Very well. I give my consent."
Oryakk moved forward, and Ilkara hesitated, unsure of what she was supposed to do. The "mouth" and "eyes" on the Tiralan's "face" began to widen and deepen. After a moment or two, coils of light suddenly burst forth from the orifices, connecting to Ilkara's eyes and mouth. For a few seconds, she was too startled to react, and then a very curious sensation overtook her entire being. It was like standing in the middle of an electric current. It was as if every nerve had been turned into a live wire, and her brain was flooded with thousands of feelings and sensations, almost too many to process, but she didn't try to fight the onslaught. Instead, she allowed herself to be overwhelmed, and, after another few moments, the river ebbed into a manageable stream. Ilkara could feel herself inside Oryakk's quarters on Exxar-One, but she was also in another place and time. Or, at least, that was how she interpreted the new images and sensations flowing across her mind and body. The power of Oryakk's presence grounded her in the mental stream, and he began to speak to her in a language that she had never heard, in a voice that was nothing like the one he used in the physical realm.