by Hellfire
“Fortunately, our aggressive immune systems were more than a match for them,” Skinner went on, shining a scanning device into Alkema’s pupils. “Your Vanguard and Warrior cells – a unique feature of Sapphire-Republic physiology, quickly isolated and destroyed the pathogens and neutralized the cells they had already attacked, leaving behind only shell-traces of the infectious pathogens.”
“So, why am I still in quarantine?”
“There are a few on this ship who don’t have the advantage of our superior immune system, including your wife. We’re developing a vaccine for them.” He put down his scanning instrument. “Honestly, though, the risk of you infecting anyone besides your wife is extremely low, and since the virus requires direct contact with the blood to transmit, you would probably be safe unless you two are into the rough stuff… kinky winky… Panrovian delight… slap and tickle… sticks-and-stones-may-break-my-bones-but-whips-and-chains-excite-me…”
“I get it,” Alkema stretched and flexed on the healing bed. He found that he felt perfectly well, as though awakened from a refreshing nap. He checked his neck and was relieved to feel that his neck wound had healed, leaving behind a fading bruise. “I’d like some clothes.”
“Of course,” Skinner gestured toward a non-descript tunic and pants hanging nearby the bed. “After all, you wouldn’t want your wife to see you naked.” Alkema slid to the side of the bed. “Turn around,” he asked the medical technician before sliding into the soft brown pants. “So, these viruses, are they what caused the collapse of this planet’s civilization?”
“Oh, I don’t think so,” Skinner sniffed. “The collapse began well over a hundred years ago. If it had been from this array of pathogens, I should think all humans on the planet would be quite extinct by now. This disease is probably an effect, not a cause, of the collapse. It probably existed before, but it was controllable through vaccinations or early treatment with basic counter-viral medications. But, without a functional technology-based society to provide those treatments, an outbreak would run through the population like a herd of Borealan oxen.”
“Was anyone else infected?”
“Neg, indeed yours was the only party to have come into contact with an infected population,” Skinner informed him.
“Za, we certainly came into contact with them,” Alkema agreed, pulling on his shoes.
“It’s rather unfortunate for them that they never caught you,” Skinner said, mischievously.
“How do you figure, doc?”
“Our enhanced immune system works both ways. If those people had ingested your blood and it entered their systems,” Skinner concluded. “You probably would have cured them.”
Epilogue
Pegasus Main Bridge –There was a three dimensional star chart in the fore part of the bridge, on which the stars identified by the navigational data core of the late Commonwealth Ship Hewlander were highlighted with yellow spheres.
“Thirty-five identified systems left in the database,” Alkema explained. “The closest is this one, identified, as best we can tell, as Moraine, it’s just sixteen light years from here.” Keeler grunted, taking his place in the command seat. “Hate the name. What else do you got?” “There’s an un-named system, possibly called Dawn Tufra, 41 light years distant. On a different vector, New Galapagos is 65 light years away.” “What about Gethsemane?” asked Atlantic from the helm position. Eliza Change, at the Navigator position, raised an eyebrow.
Alkema pointed to its point of light. “127 light years away. A vector to Croatoan will take us in that general direction.” “Croatoan it is, then,” Keeler agreed. “Navigator Change, have you calculated the …
data or algorithm or whatever whatchamajigger it is that makes my ship go there?” Change had calculated Hyperspace transitions to all the systems long ago. “Transferring key vectors to Helm Station for transition to Croatoan. Transfer complete.” “Mr. Atlantic, take us out of orbit. Rig for rapid acceleration to transition speed.” There was a slight moment of hesitation before Atlantic responded. “Aye, sir. GE
propulsion engaged. Laying in vector. Ready for acceleration when we clear the orbital margin.”
“Estimated transit time, eleven days,” Eliza Change reported.
Keeler smiled. “Second star to the right, and straight on ‘til I pass out drunk. All praise to the Allbeing. Hit it!”
Table of Contents
Part I: No Blood For Tritium
Part I: No Blood For Tritium
Section 02
Section 04
Section 08
Section 09
Section 10
Part II: Falldown
End of Part II
