Peacekeeper Pathogen (Galactic Alliance Book 6)

by Doug Farren

  “No.”

  “Good, let’s keep it that way. This will make a great surprise.”

  “Agreed.”

  Tom found his way to the waiting room near where Lashpa was now undergoing surgery. A man and his husband were sitting together on one of the couches holding hands, their heads bowed in prayer. An elderly man looked up from a magazine, stared at Tom and his missing arm for a moment, then went back to reading. Tom walked over to the coffee pot and poured himself a cup. He sat down across from the elderly man, set his coffee down on the table, and closed his eyes for just a moment.

  That moment turned into two hours.

  Chapter 29

  “Now that’s not something you see every day,” a woman’s voice said, loud enough to wake Tom.

  Tom reached for his coffee. “Just resting a bit,” he said. Taking a sip, he discovered his coffee was cold. “I guess I was asleep longer than I thought,” he said, setting the cup back down.

  “You must be Peacekeeper Wilks,” the doctor said.

  “I am.”

  “Lashpa said you would probably be here,” she replied, taking a seat next to him. “I’m Doctor Joisha Jenkins. The surgery went well and she’s in recovery until the sedative wears off. You should be able to see her in about an hour.”

  “What happened?” he asked.

  “You guys are very strong, but you’re not indestructible,” she said, making it obvious she was looking at his missing arm. “She hit her arm hard enough to sheer the safety on one of the two support rods connecting the interface ring to her duralloy skeleton. If the safety had not allowed the rod to collapse, she could have shifted the skeleton enough to have caused severe internal damage.”

  “That’s what they’re there for,” Tom replied.

  “Well, even though the rod has an internal shock absorber, it did allow the interface to move enough to tear away from her skin. I replaced the rod and repaired the damage but it’s going to be at least two weeks before she can wear a replacement arm.”

  “That actually works out quite well,” Tom said. “Her new arm won’t be here for a couple of weeks.”

  “And what happened to you?” she asked, getting up and moving to his other side.

  “Plasma cannon,” Tom replied. “Fused the arm to my combat armor. My ship removed what was left.”

  She bent down and examined the interface. “Looks okay but I’m not a cybertech.” Glancing at her watch, she stood up and said, “Heflik is probably still here if you want to see him. His office is only two floors down. Peacekeeper Lashpa should be awake by the time you get back.”

  Standing up, Tom shook hands with the doctor. “Thanks. I think I’ll do that.”

  Tom threw out his old coffee and poured himself a new one before heading down the hall to the elevator. A few minutes later, he walked into the office of Cybertech Heflik Morith. The office computer queried Tom’s identichip as soon as he walked inside.

  “Peacekeeper Wilks!” Heflik said, looking up from a computer terminal. “Your new arm arrived hours ago. I was expecting you sooner.”

  “I wanted to see my friend first,” Tom replied, following Heflik into the back room. “She just came out of surgery.”

  “I could have installed your new arm while you waited,” Heflik said. “Have a seat.”

  Tom sat down and watched as the cybertech connected a cable to where his arm should have been. The other end was attached to a small computer mounted on a stand. Tom thought about telling him that his ship had already checked out the interface electronics but decided to just sit there, sip his coffee, and wait as the cybertech did what he thought he needed to do.

  Heflik tapped on the screen, read the results, then unplugged the cable. “Your interface is in great condition. Wait here.”

  Heflik went into another room and returned a moment later carrying a new cybernetic arm. “Left one right?” he asked.

  “That’s correct,” Tom replied, not wanting to trigger a Shandarian’s odd sense of humor by replying ‘right’.

  The reattachment required only a few minutes. Afterward, Heflik made Tom run the arm through a series of tests.

  “Satisfied?” Tom said, after holding a 200 kilogram weight at arm’s length for 30 seconds.

  “I am. We’re done.”

  “Thank you.”

  Tom returned to the waiting room and checked on Lashpa’s status.

  The nurse at the desk checked her screen and said, “She woke up about five minutes ago.” A click announced that the door leading into the recovery rooms was now unlocked. “Come on back. She’s in room two.”

  Tom found Lashpa laying on her side on a large bed with a small bank of equipment monitoring her vital signs.

  “I see you have a new arm,” she said.

  “Good as new,” Tom replied, flexing it. “How do you feel?”

  “Sore and ready to leave.”

  “I’m glad to hear you’re okay,” Tom said, putting his hand on the side of her jaw.

  Lashpa’s tongue flicked out and touched Tom’s cheek. “I was not gravely injured,” she replied. “Have I missed anything?”

  “Sorbith said that everything the Purists took from the facility on Gwon-Go has been destroyed.”

  “That means we might never discover who the Gwon were or where they came from.”

  “It also means we might never find a cure for T11-N106.”

  Lashpa shifted her weight on the bed, causing it to creak under her weight. “The Omel know more about biotechnology than any other race,” she said. “I’m sure they’ll continue to work on the problem until it’s solved.”

  The door opened and Doctor Jenkins stepped inside. She glanced at the monitors and said, “How do you feel?”

  “Good enough to leave,” Lashpa replied.

  “My equipment agrees. But I like to form my own opinion. Let’s see that interface.”

  A nurse arrived and Tom stepped outside to give them some room and privacy. Ten minutes later, Lashpa joined him.

  “Have you been to see Syan?” she asked.

  “You mean King Syan?”

  “He’s no longer a king.”

  “He will always be a king to me. I haven’t seen him yet. I was more worried about you.”

  “Then that will be our next stop.”

  They made their way through the hallways to the next building where the former Mowry king was located. The nurse at the entrance to the isolation ward looked up from his terminal as the two peacekeepers approached, a huge smile forming on his face.

  “Peacekeeper Krishtom Lashwilks! I’m honored to meet you.”

  Lashpa and Tom looked at each other, the shock of being addressed as a single individual using their adopted singular name by a Terran was evident in the look they gave each other.

  “Rouldian culture fascinates me,” the nurse explained. “When I heard the news of your declaration of gragrakch, I just couldn’t help learning everything about you. I knew you would eventually be visiting Syan Hathuna. I’m so glad you did while I was manning the desk.”

  Lashpa dipped her head. “You honor us by addressing us as a single entity using our combined name,” she said. “I would like to know your name.”

  “Larry Heatherton,” the nurse replied, tilting his head slightly to one side.

  Taking the hint, Lashpa stretched her neck, putting the tip of her nose only a few centimeters from Larry’s face. Her tongue flashed out and gently touched the side of his neck. As she was doing this, he reached out and ran a finger down the side of her neck, then touched it to the tip of his tongue. It was the equivalent of a Rouldian tasting which was the traditional way Rouldians greeted each other.

  “I’m honored to meet you Larry Heatherton,” Lashpa said. “It’s refreshing to meet a Terran who understands Rouldian customs. Have you ever visited Roulda?”

  “Sadly, no. The higher gravity scares me. Someday, I hope to make a trip to a Rouldian colony on a world where the gravity is more like what I’m use
d to.”

  “I’m sure you will be welcomed.”

  Tom stepped up to the desk and extended his hand. “Can we see Syan now?” he asked as they shook.

  Larry tapped a request into his computer and read the results. “He’s still in recovery but he’s awake. I’ve sent for a nurse to bring you to his room.”

  “Recovery?” Tom asked. “Was he in surgery?”

  “Yes. The doctors removed a large mass from his abdomen. His chart shows he’s doing fine though.”

  A female nurse arrived and escorted them to one of the isolation wards. A security robot was stationed just outside the door.

  “What are your orders?” Tom asked the robot.

  “I am to allow only authorized individuals to visit with Syan Hathuna. All others will be denied access by all means necessary.”

  “A wise precaution,” Lashpa said. “If the Purists knew he was here they might try to regain custody of him.”

  The security robot stepped aside. Inside the room, they stopped in front of a glass wall through which they could see King Syan laying in his bed, apparently asleep. The nurse touched a control screen and said, “Mr. Hathuna, you have visitors.”

  Syan’s eyes opened. Using the controls on the bed, he elevated himself so he could look at Tom and Lashpa.

  “It’s good to see you again. Thank you for rescuing me.”

  “What happened?” Tom asked.

  “Your doctors removed the lump that had formed on my side,” Syan replied, putting his hand on his left side. “I told them it would just grow back.”

  Tom heard the door behind them open. Through the reflection in the glass, he saw that it was an Omel surgeon.

  “Hold on a minute,” Tom told Syan. Muting the microphone, he turned to the surgeon and said, “Did you operate on him?”

  The doctor’s eyes quickly moved from the top of Tom’s head to his feet. Remembering his Omel etiquette, Tom did the same. While doing so, he caught the surgeon’s name—Shi Vanukt.

  “I did,” Shi replied, “There’s no need to worry. The majority of the T11-N106 spores removed from Mr. Hathuna have already been destroyed. A small sample is locked away in my lab.”

  “Destroyed?” Tom asked.

  “By order of the senior biomaster advisory board,” Shi said, stopping short of offering an explanation.

  “What do you plan on doing with the spores you did not destroy?” Lashpa asked.

  “Nothing. I’m a surgeon, not a biomaster. I’ve been instructed to retain the sample in a viable state until Biomaster Flothir arrives. He’s currently on his way. As a member of the senior advisory board, he’s the only one allowed access to the sample.”

  Tom stared at Shi for a moment, then asked, “What about King Syan? Are you planning on keeping him here for the rest of his life?”

  “I’ve been instructed to keep Mr. Hathuna here, in quarantine, until further notice.”

  “Thank you,” Lashpa said. “Tom and I would like to speak to him in private if you don’t mind.”

  The doctor took a step backward. “I understand. If you need to speak to me about anything afterward, I’ll be in my office.”

  As soon as the door closed, Tom turned to Lashpa and said, “I’m not going to let anyone keep King Syan locked up in a hospital while they experiment on him and continue to harvest T11-N106 from his body. He needs to be sent back to Gwon-Go so he can die with dignity among his own people.”

  “Perhaps you should ask him how he feels about it,” Lashpa replied.

  Tom turned the microphone back on. “That was your doctor,” he said. “They want to keep you here until further notice. What do you want to do? I can arrange to have you returned to Gwon-Go if you want.”

  Syan shook his head. “I’m a dirt-eater,” he said. “An outcast among my people. My own family will refuse to see me and would threaten me with harm if I tried to get too close.”

  “Your assistant didn’t seem to mind,” Tom said.

  “He’s one of the few who believe dirt-eaters should be helped and not treated as outcasts. If there’s a chance your people can find a cure for this, I will remain here. There’s nothing for me back home.”

  “I’m sorry,” Tom said, not knowing what else to say.

  “There’s no need,” Syan replied. “All things living must eventually die. I’ve had a good life. I would ask you to follow the traditions of my people and burn my body when I’m gone.”

  “We’re going to try to find a way to stop this,” Tom told him. “Stop talking as if you’re going to die tomorrow.”

  “Tomorrow. Two tomorrows from now. Or a thousand. It does not matter. The Star Gods created us and even they are not immortal.”

  “No matter when you die,” Lashpa said, “we will ensure the traditions of your people are followed.”

  “Thank you. I would like to talk longer but I’m very tired. Can you return at a later time?”

  “Of course,” Tom said.

  “We’ll talk to you later,” Lashpa replied, opening the door.

  Outside the room, Lashpa turned to Tom and said, “I’m very hungry. Would you mind if we went somewhere to eat?”

  “Of course not,” Tom replied. “Let’s see if Sorbith can join us. He can bring us up-to-date on what’s been going on and we can talk to him about what’s going to happen to Safa.”

  “Krish tells me there’s a very nice multi-cultural restaurant in downtown Cleveland that carries Rouldian cuisine,” Lashpa said. “He’s reserved a private room for us.”

  “Sorbith has agreed to join you,” Orion told them both, using their audio implants. “He has some important news he would like to share with you.”

  “Great!” Tom replied as he started walking down the hall.

  “Tom,” Orion began, “Lashpa has requested that I arrange for her to borrow a Rouldian vehicle. I told her to standby.”

  Focusing his thoughts, and mouthing the words so his ship could understand without Lashpa hearing, Tom said, “Cancel her request. Tell her transportation has been arranged.”

  Peacekeeper AIs were programmed to obey their master’s every command unless it violated Alliance law. Lashpa’s request to borrow a vehicle from the Clinic would be logged internally as an unfulfilled order unless countermanded by Tom. The urgency of responding to the request exactly as specified would rise until the AI had no choice but to comply. Tom’s command overrode Lashpa’s avoiding an internal conflict within the machine’s advanced neural network.

  Outside, Lashpa looked around, then said, “I asked Orion to have the Clinic bring a car around for me. It should be here any minute.”

  “Is that it?” Tom said, pointing towards Lashpa’s tricycle.

  Lashpa stared at her tricycle for a moment then said, “Thank you! I would never have thought to have my own vehicle shipped here.”

  “Thank Krish and Orion,” Tom admitted. “It was their idea.”

  “Thank you Orion,” Lashpa said aloud, walking over to her tricycle. “Please tell Krish as well.”

  “Acknowledged.”

  “It was my idea to surprise you though,” Tom said. “I overrode the request you made to Orion.”

  “I thought something was going on,” she replied. “I just couldn’t put my foot on it.”

  “Finger,” Tom corrected.

  “Foot,” Lashpa insisted. “Terrans say finger.”

  “Then foot it is.”

  Chapter 30

  “A new policy concerning T11-N106 has been released,” Orion asked as it took control of Tom’s tricycle. “Would you like to hear the details?”

  “Yes. Include Lashpa in the conversation as well.”

  “The senior biomaster advisory board has recommended to ban all research on T11-N106. The organism will remain classified as a class-12 pathogen and all information regarding it is to be restricted to the members of the senior biomaster advisory board. No further research will be conducted unless authorized by unanimous agreement by the board and only if
performed by a board member.”

  “Did they say why?” Tom asked.

  “Yes,” Orion replied. “T11-N106 is harmless unless triggered. Following an analysis of the way the spores have been carried away from the source, the board has estimated that several million people have potentially been exposed and are now infected. If anyone discovers how to trigger the pathogen to attack its host, it could be turned into a very powerful weapon. The board believes it’s in the best interest of the Alliance to allow the trigger to remain unknown.”

  “What about the quarantine?” Lashpa asked. “People will begin to question why it’s in place.”

  “The quarantine is being lifted. The original explanation of why it was put in place will not be altered. People will believe it was due to an outbreak of a local disease which has been dealt with.”

  “What!” Tom said. “I can’t believe the board would agree to allow T11-N106 to continue to spread. What if the Gwon return?”

  “The Gwon haven’t been seen in over 3,000 years,” Orion replied. “No trace of their civilization other than what they left behind on Gwon-Go has ever been found. It is possible that Gwon-Go was a very remote facility and remnants of their civilization will eventually be discovered. But, there’s another reason for allowing the original quarantine to be lifted. The board has recommended to the Grand Council that Gwon-Go be declared off-limits except to only a very small number of individuals specifically authorized by the council. This will allow the Mowry to develop naturally without undue influence.”

  “That would at least stop the spread of the disease,” Lashpa said. “But I’m not sure that abandoning the Mowry is the right thing to do.”

  “It doesn’t sound like we’re abandoning them,” Tom pointed out. “We’re just backing off so they can find their own culture. They already know about the Alliance, but their civilization is still undeveloped. I’m sure we’ll continue to maintain the technology they’re currently using. I support this decision.”

  “I do as well,” Lashpa replied. “As long as we do not totally abandon them. We have a responsibility to be there if they need us.”

  “Such as finding a way to cure dirt-eating syndrome,” Tom said.