by Chris Hechtl
“Kid, I'm going to keep my people in line. You are on your own,” Val said with a shake of her head as she went back to her people.
Rob stiffened but then sighed. No help there apparently. “On my own. Joy,” he muttered as he tried to get back to work.
<()>^<()>
Pell had tried to find a way out of the port but he'd been stuck. As the chain of command broke down with the plague, he'd found himself rising rapidly through the ranks.
He'd wanted the job, sure, but not now. Not during a crisis. Not when he didn't know what the hell to do and he was more or less helpless. Sure, he was a human and therefore immune, but a lot of people were looking at him and his kind as if they did this to him.
Which was why he'd issued orders for the human shore patrol personnel to remain in pairs and armed at all times.
<()>^<()>
Black Death
Admiral Ishmael rubbed his brow as he tried to figure out a solution to the problem he and his people were facing. The name of his battlecruiser flagship had become suddenly bitterly ironic.
For some of his people, it was the ultimate end game. For others, they didn't know how to react. Those not immediately affected were divided in panicking and running and listening helplessly to their friends, kin, and mates slowly succumbing to the fear and plagues rampaging on the base.
He and many of the old guard had been vaccinated once centuries ago in their youth. But they had not received boosters since then he reminded himself. Some of his medics had been vaccinated against disease in the ranks but not much. The medics had drilled it into him that the vaccines they had access to were old and not set up against weaponized biotech. At best they might fend off some of the viruses and bacteria but not all of them.
They'd already instituted medical protocols including a strict quarantine. He'd cut orders to ruthlessly cut down anyone who broke quarantine.
The good news was mixed. According to the medics they may have caught the outbreak early. A person was at his or her most dangerous when they were running a fever and coughing. At least, that was how it went with most viruses.
The various bacteria were a different story.
He frowned and called Doctor White but was redirected to Doctor Sho. He nodded. No doubt the Neogorilla had been infected by now. The human doctor was supposedly immune to most of the viruses and bacteria. He resented that. He knew a lot of aliens and Neos did the same. But they needed the damn human to do something. Besides, Sho was one of them, a Tau pirate not a Horathian traitor.
Why hadn't he gotten them to stop and think before they dug that human bitch out of her lab? Why hadn't he thought that she'd have nothing left to lose and would thus infect herself and those around her? He shook his head angrily. Stupid. Just one more stupid mistake.
He didn't have many left. He was getting old; he knew it. But if he didn't catch and stop himself from making more stupid mistakes, he wasn't going to get much older.
The doctor came on the screen after a moment. “Admiral?”
“Doctor Sho. Still on your feet?” The human grimaced and pulled down his mask and nodded. “So, we're only delaying the inevitable you said in your last email?”
“Yes, sir. I'm afraid quarantine came too late for some of the plagues. I've ordered samples to be taken to try to create a cure or at least stall the viruses. We've instituted what protocols we can but we're not set up for this. The information you gave us helped a little but not a lot.”
The admiral grimaced. He'd passed on the video recording from Commodore Logan. She'd mentioned that Rabies had been a part of the list of plagues and that most had been weaponized to strike at the victim's minds, driving them primal. That was the main reason patients who were entering the terminal phase were strapped down or sedated.
“Maybe we should have made that deal with the feds,” the admiral said softly, looking away in pain.
“What, rolled over and surrendered? Lived our lives out in the brig? Or walk the plank and get spaced? Hell with that, sir!” a voice in the background with Doctor Sho piped up but then stopped and fell into a fit of coughing and cursing.
The doctor turned to attend to the patient and then tried to move away to give himself more privacy. “Sorry, sir.”
“No. He was right. A long life in a cage isn't worth it,” the admiral said. “Okay, so, what can we do? What do we need?”
“We need medical supplies. I'm low on cough suppressants, bandages, and medications. Alcohol helps knock our people out but has a detrimental effect with the meds.”
“You've got all we've got on the base and first call on any ship in port. They've buttoned up but you can call on their sickbays. If we have to, we'll use remote tugs to move gear to you.”
“Aye, sir. But we need more. We've got the data from Horath. We've got the samples. What we don't have are any vaccines. They didn't bring any. And this is a bit more than what I can do. I'm just a country hambone doctor.”
The Neolion admiral drummed his fingers on the arm rest for a moment and then flicked his claws to gently drag them on the surface. Not enough to dig in, just enough to get the sensual comfort of clawing something. “What is the best way for a layman to tell someone is sick?” he finally asked, coming to some sort of a decision.
“Well, coughing is a dead giveaway. So is acting irrationally. But that is just a side effect of a fever; the brain is overheating. When you have a fever, you have the virus, and your body is trying to fight it off. You are also highly contagious.”
He blinked and then nodded. “Oh.”
“You can infect others before or after that period but not all of the time. And some viruses mutate so one passage doesn't guarantee you'll survive the next,” the doctor stated.
The Neocat grimaced. “Oh, joy.”
“The best way to get the vaccines is to get them from the feds. They've supposedly got the medics. Getting one of their medics would also be ideal.”
“We're not surrendering,” the admiral growled, eye flickering as thoughts raged within his mind.
“No one said we should, sir,” the human replied.
“So what are you saying?”
“You said it yourself, sir; we're pirates,” the doctor said with a toothy smile. Slowly Ishmael returned it. “It might be easier to hit a planet or place they gave the vaccines to, sir,” Doctor Sho warned.
“But not as much fun. But I see your point.”
“We need this to happen soon, sir. What we're doing is only delaying the inevitable. The easier viruses and bacteria we can treat but each round weakens the body's ability to fight off the next and the one after that and so on and so forth.”
“So, somewhere close. Okay. We'll backtrack where the bastards dumped their plague and go from there. The Feds followed them in so presumably they cleaned up the mess.”
“Yes, sir. Sir, about the plague ships …”
“Plague …,” the admiral blinked and then his eye widened. He wanted to smack himself on the head. “Damn them! I did fall for that, didn't I?”
“Yes, sir. I strongly urge you to cut orders to space that cargo. And each ship and base should be checked for infection.”
“Definitely, Doctor,” the admiral said firmly. “I'll get on that and the other project. Anything else?”
“The death toll is liable to rise soon, sir. Once it does, panic will set in. Everyone is armed. It could get ugly.”
“Understood. I'll look into that too. Do your job, Doctor.”
“I'm trying,” the doctor said with a sigh as he turned away as the signal was cut.
The admiral stared at the screen for a long moment and then sucked in a breath. They had to find an answer, a way out of the mess. To do that they needed the cure.
They'd encountered it when they'd stopped at some of the worlds the Feds had cured. Why the hell hadn't he thought to get it? Or even a list of what was killing people? But he hadn't. He'd just assumed the traitors from Horath had it all in hand. He should have suspected some
thing when they hadn't enacted a vaccination program.
In a way that was probably a good thing. They could have easily given them a placebo.
He had to try to find a cure. It wouldn't help the people in the base, not in time. But he had to have it for the future.
He checked his status board and then tapped one of his claws on the table. “Fitzgerald,” he finally drawled. He called the ship and waited.
“Sir, Captain Fitzgerald is here,” a tech said within a minute.
“Aye, Admiral?” a familiar Neogorilla with a pair of flashy gold canines said, filling the screen. “What can I do for you?”
“I see you've been careful about where you be,” the admiral drawled.
“Aye. Lady Luck's blessing was with the both of us. Neither one of us or our ships got the crud,” the Neogorilla said warily.
“Aye, and your ship can go south to find me the cure.”
“Sir?”
“Mykanos or further south. Go get it and bring it back. If you canna find it, don't come back until you do or at all. Do you understand?”
“Aye, sir.”
“I'll have Kix send you what data we got. Be prepared for the Feds. Smash through it.”
“Aye, be liking a chance to get even,” the Neogorilla growled, smashing his right fist into his left. He had pain tattooed on his knuckles of his right hand. Death was tattooed on the knuckles of his left hand.
The Neolion nodded. Fitzgerald's Marblehead had come down from Dead Man's Hand and had been in port when Black Death and Black Corsage had come in. The light cruiser had missed the death and destruction in Tau-1252. But, the Neogorilla had re-sworn his loyalty to the admiral right away. He'd also provided a few spares to help get Black Death to fighting trim once more.
“Git on with ya then and git her done,” the admiral growled as he signed off.
Chapter 3
Tortuga
Doctor Sho and the senior staff held a brief consultation over a meal. It was a grim meeting. They went over the symptomology of each plague and how to diagnose and treat it for each species. Many were common treatments. Most were fairly basic; bed rest was all they could do. They were reduced to what most medics were, people who could help the body heal but were at times like this, bystanders.
Helpless bystanders sometimes.
“We're so screwed,” a nurse murmured.
Doctor Sho glared at her. The woman was tired. She had circles under her eyes, and her hair was a mess. So was her outfit, someone had barfed on her. She was punch drunk honest. He had to admit, they were on borrowed time. At least some were more than others.
“No, they are, the poor devils,” an orderly said. Doctor Sho's head swiveled to him. It was only then that he realized most of the people in the room were human or chimera. Had he not noticed the other medics had dropped one by one? He kicked himself for that. “What do we do? There is no way we can lick this, not all of them at once! They are dropping like flies out there! I think someone said there are a dozen or more viruses and bacteria? And quarantining the entire sector and having us on our own life support is having us stew in our own juices!”
“Did we get the entire package or just a few? Can we get a list and start treating now? Is environmental doing their part? Flushing the system? We are on our own life support, right like you said, George?” the head nurse asked. She was nervous; she had gotten a bad bruise from a chimp who'd grabbed her arm. The wrist might be sprained or worse. She had an ice pack on the wrist but refused to let anyone check it.
“Now you know what I meant about screwed. It's a simple matter of someone turning off the life support,” the pessimistic nurse said with a shake of her head.
“Can that,” Doctor Sho growled. Privately he had to admit they had little chance against the plagues. But that didn't stop them from being duty bound to try. Duty bound and bound by the admiral looking over their shoulder.
“Okay, we need to work on both avenues. And we need to triage. Diagnose early and begin treatment. We have oxygen treatment for those who have gotten hit with pneumonia or such, work with that for some of the early stage. Those who are infectious we'll have to isolate further to halt the spread of contamination. Get the lab on cultures; we need a better idea of what we're dealing with.”
“Understood, Doctor,” another doctor said, grasping at Doctor Sho's sign of leadership desperately like it was a lifeline. Which it was. They all knew they couldn't panic or give in.
“Doctor! We've got ten more coming in! And we're low on dressing! And the sewer system is backed up. I think there is something wrong with environmental! A low-ranking orderly pressed into a nursing position said, coming into the office.
“Okay, we'll get on it,” Doctor Sho said with a nod. “Get someone looking into those things. Any human in quarantine with us is hereby drafted.”
“You mean press-ganged?” the head nurse asked, lips quivering.
“Whatever,” the head doctor stated. “Use them. Have them change bedding, move patients, play gopher, whatever they can handle.” The nurse grimaced but nodded. “Make sure everyone eats and stays hydrated. Naps, no more than four hours in shift. I'll work on the roster once we have this under control.”
If we can ever get it under control he thought tiredly. He knew he wasn't going to be much good to anyone if he drove himself into fatigue and exhaustion.
<()>^<()>
Captain Gutt heard the chatter behind him and grimaced. He could see the fear in the eyes of his crew, smell it in the air despite everything the techs were trying to do to get it out. And he was an ape, so his sniffer wasn't as acute as one in a mutt or cat.
Sucks to be them he thought in amusement at their plight.
“Well, I can safely say for once that I'm glad we're not in the thick of things,” he growled. “Right?” he asked, pitching his voice to his bridge crew.
Heads turned and then immediately began to nod in earnest.
“Good then. Get a status report on the picket ships. Let's get that mangy lot sorted out. I want a proper picket of the jump point by the time we get there!” he growled. “Let them know we mean business! The admiral sent us to the jump point to put some spine in them. The first to flinch gets keelhauled, mateys!” he growled, eyes glittering as he showed off his horrible teeth in a malicious grin.
There were a series of guttural growls from the crew. He waited the yars out. Some were token, but he didn't care. They'd come around. Hell for anyone who came down with a sniffle in the next week or so. They'd be out the nearest lock faster than they could blink.
But he left unsaid that he was indeed glad to be far away from Tortuga—very far away.
<()>^<()>
Doctor Sho made the rounds virtually and then made the rounds in full hazard gear. It wasn't for his health; he was immune or so the notes said. They'd confirmed that much at least. It was to himself from spreading the infection between units he visited. Airlocks had been set up between each ward. Each ward has its own improvised filtration. The airlocks acted as a bottleneck to keep the staff from spreading the infections from ward to ward. Each airlock had an improvised sprayer to help decontaminate them as they passed through them.
He wasn't sure if any of it was doing any good. It was definitely a show, which might help morale short term. But his being human and therefore immune was both an asset and a hindrance when it came to treating the infected.
He covered Doctor Scarbrough's for an hour while the exhausted woman got a bite to eat and a nap. Along his third trip around the ward, he dodged a swipe from a feverish Neotiger. “Why are you here, human?” the tiger growled, eyeing him darkly.
“Because I am a doctor. It's my job,” he said gently but firmly, motioning the cat back into the bed.
“Doctor hell! You humans did this to us!” the cat growled.
There were some growls and hisses from around the room. He looked around the room and then decided to address the room at large to quell the growing mutiny. He pitched his voice
for all to hear.
“Yeah, I know. But I didn't do this. I was here with you. I'm here now. I'm not going to abandon you. I'm going to do what I can do undo this,” the doctor said firmly as he firmly pushed the cat back onto the bed and then checked the readings. “So don't be a pain in my ass.”
“Or you'll what?”
“Or I'll move on to someone else and let you suffer,” the doctor said sternly, meeting the cat glare for glare. The nurse will give you a shot to knock your ass out and you can stew.”
The cat growled and then snorted. Green snot sprayed the doctor's sleeve. He looked down at it.
“Don't expect an apology,” the cat snuffled, wiping at his drooling nose and then flicking the mess onto the floor.
“Wouldn't dream of it,” the doctor murmured as he finished checking the monitors. He pulled out a pillow to help prop the cat up so he could breathe easier. Based on the progression of the disease he had a dim outlook. Eventually his lungs would drown in the fluid buildup that one of the plagues was causing. The cat moved his buttocks and slapped an approaching nurse with his tail.
“Hey!”
“Yeah, that's right, save being a pain for the nurses,” the doctor quipped.
The nurse was wearing a mask. She stopped and glowered, then shook her head. “Don't encourage him,” she said as the cat chuffed in amusement and then laid back tiredly.
The sound of retching made the doctor turn and then point to a chimp half out of bed vomiting on the floor. “Nurse, basin. And we better turn up the blowers or the smell will get them all going,” he said grimly as they got back to work.
<()>^<()>
Admiral Ishmael scrubbed a hand through his mane tiredly. One of his pride/harem had been out visiting friends and had been trapped within the quarantine zone. She and the other females had begged him to lift it to get her out, but he'd refused. Now the others weren't talking to him.