Peacekeeper Pathogen (Galactic Alliance Book 6)

by Doug Farren

  Doctor Sing opened her mouth, then closed it. After a moment, she sat back in her chair and crossed her arms. “I agree. I’m staying.”

  “There’s no longer any doubt,” Biomaster Flothir began, “T11-N106 is an engineered organism and it was created using technology that, as far as we know, nobody in the Alliance possesses.”

  “Could it be Chroniech?” Tom asked.

  “I’m not familiar with Chroniech biotechnology,” Flothir replied. “But, based on what I do know of them, I doubt it.”

  “So we’re dealing with the possibility of a threat from outside the Alliance?” Lashpa asked.

  “Can you tell us how you’ve come to this conclusion?” Doctor Sing asked.

  “The pathogen is a large amoeba-like organism with the ability to mimic the host’s cells thus preventing it from being recognized as an invader and attacked by the immune system.”

  A command brought up a highly magnified image on one of the room’s large displays. It was a colorful image filled with complex structures and other blobs. “This is the organism,” Flothir announced. “As you can see, it possesses a dual nucleus. Two nuclei separated by a thin membrane. This one,” a red dot from Flothir’s laser-pointer indicated a roundish blob on the screen, “is the primary nucleus responsible for giving the cell life. This one,” the red dot moved to a slightly larger and more colorful blob, “is a biological computer.”

  “It’s a what?” Tom asked.

  “An RNA-based computer,” Flothir said. “But one far more complex than any I’ve ever seen.”

  “I’ve never heard of such a thing,” Tom said, activating the zoom feature of his cybernetic eyes to get a closer look.

  “They’re very difficult to design,” Flothir explained. “We Omel have been able to create only simple biocomputers for use in some of our advanced cancer treatments. But this,” the Biomaster looked at the image and shook his head, “this is well beyond anything we are capable of doing. Whoever built this is far ahead of us in biotechnology.”

  “Is it a weapon? Can it spread?” Lashpa asked.

  “Unfortunately, yes to both questions. I managed to extract 17 cells. After taking these photomicrographs, I destroyed three of them to sequence their DNA and examine their internal chemical structure. I left a fourth attached to a small piece of tissue to see how it would react as the sample dried up. Instead of dying as expected, it sporulated, encasing itself in a shell of silicate making it look like a tiny grain of sand.”

  “Were you able to revive it?” Doctor Sing inquired before Tom could ask for a definition of the unfamiliar medical term.

  “Yes,” Flothir replied.

  “Sporulation is the creation of a protective shell around an organism when threatened by changing environmental conditions,” Tom’s ship gave him the dictionary definition. “In other words, it becomes a spore,” the Orion added.

  “So you’re telling me this thing can be easily spread!” Tom blurted out.

  “Oh yes,” Flothir replied. “But, we don’t know if the organism actively participates in spreading itself beyond its current host. We do know that once the host dies, the organism undergoes apoptosis making it almost impossible to study. If it does spread, it must lie dormant until triggered. Unfortunately, we know virtually nothing about it at this point.”

  “Were you successful in analyzing the organism’s DNA?” Doctor Sing asked.

  “No, and I’m not sure we’ll ever be able to.”

  “I don’t quite follow,” Doctor Sing replied, a puzzled look on her face.

  Flothir increased the magnification of the organism and aimed his laser-pointer at the display, illuminating a small object floating inside the secondary nucleus. “I believe this tiny structure contains an enzyme that breaks down RNA. If the wall of the secondary nucleus is ruptured, this object releases its contents quickly destroying the entire cell.”

  “A tamper switch,” Lashpa said.

  “Exactly,” Flothir replied, returning the magnification to a setting allowing them to see the entire pathogen. “It’s another clear indication that this organism has been engineered.”

  “The peacekeepers will expect to be kept informed of all developments made concerning this threat to our security,” Tom told him.

  “This is a class-12 pathogen,” Biomaster Flothir said. “I’m bound by Omel law not to reveal any details that can possibly be used to recreate this organism. I will- - -”

  “I’m aware of your situation,” Tom interrupted. “But this not only represents a threat to the Alliance, but it appears to have originated from an unknown species possessing advanced biotechnology. A species, I might add, that’s willing to use such technology to develop a very potent threat to our very existence.”

  “I don’t see this pathogen as a weapon of war,” Flothir said. “It’s more of a terror weapon.”

  “What do you mean by that?” Doctor Sing asked.

  “Think about it for a moment.” Flothir waved his arm at the screen. “This kills in the most horrible fashion I’ve ever seen. Worse than anything we Omel ever developed. Threatening to release it into a large population would cause widespread panic.”

  “But you yourself have said the disease is not contagious,” Doctor Sing said. “That doesn’t make it a very good weapon.”

  “The cases we’ve seen so far may be a test. They might also be done to show us what the disease is capable of doing. I have no doubt that whoever created this has a way of making this pathogen very contagious.”

  “Can you synthesize a cure?” Lashpa asked.

  “I’m not sure,” Flothir admitted. “The biocomputer is quite sophisticated and the organism itself is able to masquerade as one of the host’s cells. Because of its built-in self-destruct, studying it is going to be a challenge. I was unsuccessful in sequencing the DNA or obtaining a good chemical analysis due to the way the organism commits apoptosis. We’ll have to be very careful with the few samples I have left.”

  Tom looked at Lashpa and said, “Sorbith will want to hear about this. He’ll need to inform the Grand Council of what we’ve discovered.”

  “Indeed,” she replied.

  “How soon can I have a report of your findings?” Tom asked.

  “I would like to perform a full autopsy on Mr. Smally’s body. Due to the nature of what we’re dealing with, this will have to be done in a secure Omel medical facility. I’ll need permission from Mr. Smally’s family to send his remains off-planet. I still have some analysis to do on the data I’ve collected so far. Would tomorrow be okay?”

  “This disease has implications that override any family concerns,” Tom replied. “You have permission to perform whatever tests you deem necessary on Mr. Smally’s body at any location you desire. Please send me what you’ve gathered so far. I’ll remain in Denver until you’re ready to move the body. You can reach me through the peacekeeper network.”

  “I will. By the way, thank you for getting my belongings. I received a message that everything is in my room at the Hampton.”

  “You’re welcome. If you need anything else, let us know.”

  Tom thanked the doctors waiting in the hall for their patience as they filed out of the conference room. Doctor Sing and Biomaster Flothir went back into the microbiology lab leaving Tom and Lashpa alone in the hallway.

  “This doesn’t look good at all,” Tom said.

  “I agree,” Lashpa replied. “If this is indeed a biological attack, the entire Alliance could be at risk.”

  “I’ll have Orion fire off a report with what we know so far.”

  Chapter 5

  “Tom?”

  The soft voice of the Orion’s AI woke Tom from a deep slumber. He and Lashpa had stayed up well into the night playing chess and catching up on each other’s lives. Instead of sleeping in a bed like a normal person, he preferred to sleep sitting in the command chair of his ship. Possessing cybernetic arms and legs meant he could go to sleep almost anywhere and never worry about feeling c
ramped or sore the next morning.

  Tom gave himself a moment to fully wake up then replied, “I’m awake.”

  “Incoming call from Peacekeeper Sorbith,” the ship informed him.

  “Accept.”

  Sorbith’s face appeared on the central monitor.

  “Standby Tom,” Sorbith said as soon as he noticed the link was established.

  A moment later, the screen shifted and Lashpa’s face appeared next to Sorbith’s.

  “Now that everyone is here,” Sorbith began, “I can give both of you the news. A short time ago, I received word that the Grand Council has classified T11-N106 as a threat against the Alliance. Peacekeeper command is authorized to identify and eliminate the source of this threat. You two have been placed in charge of this effort.”

  Tom sat in shock as Lashpa took the lead and replied, “Why us? I would think there are others more qualified for this task.”

  “This came directly from peacekeeper command,” Sorbith said. “If you want to know why, you’ll have to ask them. I’ve also been informed that both you and Tom are now free-agents, with stipulations. Congratulations.”

  “Free agents!” Tom said.

  “What do you mean by ‘with stipulations’?” Lashpa asked.

  “I’ve never seen an order like this,” Sorbith admitted. “The stipulation is that you two must always work together.”

  “Could it be because we are gragrakch?” Lashpa asked, referring to the ancient Rouldian belief that every entity was created as a single spirit which split into two at the moment of its creation. When the two find each other, they declare themselves as gragrakch — two bodies, one soul. From that point forward, Rouldian law treats them as a single person.

  “I don’t know and frankly, I don’t care. As of this moment you’re no longer my responsibility.”

  “Do you have any other details about any of this?” Tom asked.

  “I’m sure your ships have received detailed orders,” Sorbith said, at the same time the Orion flashed a confirmatory message to Tom via the biolink. “An Omel science vessel, the Churva, is en route to Earth. It should be here in three days. The ship and crew have been assigned to you to assist in the investigation. Peacekeeper command has also been given the details associated with all the other known cases. Teams are now working to uncover everything we know about them in the hopes of finding something in common. In a few days, you’ll know every detail of the lives of every person who’s died from this disease as well as the lives of those they’ve been in contact with.”

  Tom was well aware of just how much information could be gathered concerning an individual. Computer standards implemented across the Alliance would allow the peacekeeper AIs to track a person’s movements and actions to an almost unimaginable degree. Using surveillance cameras, ship logs, identicard tracking, financial records, communication records, and virtually every other type of interaction a person might have with the outside world, the computers, when necessary, could build a detailed record of a person’s every movement from the day they were born until the day they died. Such detailed records were—by law—kept secured behind iron-clad encryption but could be provided to the appropriate officials if needed.

  “I don’t know what to say,” Tom said.

  “How about thank you,” Sorbith replied.

  “Um … thank you … I think.”

  “Everything the Alliance knows about T11-N106 and the investigation that is now underway will be forwarded to you,” Sorbith explained. “Good luck. Sorbith out.”

  Sorbith’s face vanished leaving Tom staring at Lashpa.

  “Do you have any idea as to what just happened?” Tom asked.

  “I understand the assignment and the new designation,” Lashpa replied. “But I cannot come up with a plausible explanation as to why. Any ideas?”

  “None at all. I’m still trying to figure out why we were made free-agents,” Tom told her.

  “I’m more concerned about why we were put in charge of such an important investigation,” Lashpa replied. “I’m sure there are people far more qualified for this assignment than ourselves.”

  “Could peacekeeper command be doing some type of research on us because we’ve declared gragrakch?” Tom asked.

  “It’s possible. Krish,” Lashpa addressed her ship, “do you have any additional information as to why Tom and I were given this assignment and why we must remain together to retain our free-agent status?”

  “I do,” the ship replied, sending the audio through the communications link for Tom’s benefit.

  “Elaborate,” Lashpa said.

  “Request permission to initiate VR,” the ship replied.

  Lashpa looked at Tom and after seeing his nod of approval said, “Proceed.”

  Tom’s control over his cybernetics was transferred to the ship and he entered the world of virtual reality. Although his senses told him he was now sitting in a comfortable chair, he knew it was nothing more than a synthesized illusion. Through his cybernetic limbs, eyes, and ears the ship’s AI gave him the impression that he was in a quiet family room, a softly crackling fireplace to his right. He could even feel the warmth from the fire. Looking around, he saw Lashpa sitting on a comfortable cushion just to his left. Two individuals, a Terran and a Rouldian, were seated in front of them—the familiar avatars the two AIs usually chose to create for themselves.

  “Allow us to explain,” the two avatars replied in unison.

  “Us?” Lashpa asked.

  Tom had expected to see Krish’s avatar but the presence of the Orion’s indicated that the two AIs had been communicating with each other and both had something to add to the discussion. The avatar representing Krish said, “Peacekeeper command relies heavily on the recommendations of a group of AIs gathering information from across the Alliance.”

  “AIs such as myself and Krish,” Orion smoothly continued the discussion, “are responsible for identifying individuals with unique skills and feeding this information to peacekeeper command.”

  Krish’s avatar looked at the Orion’s as they each took turns speaking. “This ensures that the best people are always assigned to perform the jobs best suited them.”

  “So you recommended we be placed in charge of this investigation?” Lashpa asked.

  “Not precisely,” Orion replied. “We informed peacekeeper command that the two of you, working as a team, are very talented at solving difficult issues. We also believe you work best when free from external influence. The recommendation to head up this investigation came from peacekeeper command but it was based on the information we provided.”

  “But why the stipulation?” Lashpa asked. “Is it because we are gragrakch?”

  “And why this assignment?” Tom added. “I don’t know anything about pathogens.”

  “This assignment is not just about T11-N106,” Orion replied. “It’s clear we are dealing with an organism specifically designed as a weapon of terror. There’s a high probability this represents an external threat to the Alliance. It is this threat that must be identified. You are more than qualified for this task.”

  “The fact that you have declared gragrakch,” Krish began, “is a possible contributing factor into how well you work together as a team. We wish to continue to explore this possibility. When I became aware of Lashpa’s assignment as Planetary Supervisor, I filed an objection with peacekeeper command.”

  “You what!” Lashpa said, almost shouting it out. “I didn’t ask you to file an objection.”

  “My programming dictates that I am responsible for your well-being as well as ensuring you are performing to the best of your abilities,” the ship replied. “Although you did well on Crapshoot, your separation from Tom did result in a slight but statistically significant drop in your performance. Assigning Tom to Crapshoot to keep you together would be an inefficient use of both your talents. Although I did not anticipate this particular assignment, I did request that you and Tom be assigned a challenging problem and that you sh
ould work together as free agents.”

  Tom looked at Krish then at Orion. A raised eyebrow was all he needed to goad the AI into answering his unspoken question. “Krish did consult with me on this,” Orion admitted. “I concurred with its conclusion and made the same recommendation to peacekeeper command.”

  “Was I also statistically inefficient?” Tom asked.

  “There was a small drop in your ability to remain focused, although I could not decide if it correlated with your separation from Lashpa or your desire to spend some time with your sister.”

  Tom looked at Lashpa and said, “They do seem to have a point.”

  “Still,” Lashpa said, “I’m not happy you filed a complaint concerning my new assignment without discussing it with me. In the future, you will talk to me before taking such actions.”

  “Understood,” Krish replied.

  “The same goes for you,” Tom said, shaking his finger toward the Orion’s avatar.

  “Also, understood,” Orion replied.

  “Well,” Tom said, using the arms of his leather chair to push himself into a better position, “since we’re here, show us what we have so far.”

  The fireplace faded away and was replaced with a large display screen. The faces of eight people appeared on the left with a short bio of each of them on the right. Six were Terran, one was Shandarian, and the other was Omel. Tom and Lashpa read through the list of statistics as Orion’s avatar stood up and walked over to the screen.

  “These are all the known deaths believed to be caused by T11-N106,” Orion said, waving his hand at the screen. “The first reported case occurred almost a year and half ago. The deceased was a Purist engineer who died on Glish while vacationing.

  “Damned Purists!” Tom spat out the words. “Biggest group of hypocrites I’ve ever seen.”

  Undeterred by the comment, the ship continued. “Six months later, a female Terran peacekeeper passed away on the Tholtaran world of Tenbar.”