“Yes,” she replied, smirking a bit at his early morning enthusiasm.
“Mary is one of a dozen people in the past couple of days to complain to me about hallucinations,” Karen said rather straightforwardly, deciding not to waste any time with the normal pleasantries. “I ran a couple of tests on her and they all came back negative,” she continued, holding up Mary’s left arm. “Then we noticed these.” She pointed to a series of a dozen or so dark red blotches on the underside of the Lieutenant’s arm, just below the elbow.
“Now what in the hell would those be?” Dennis asked curiously.
“I don’t know… yet,” admitted Karen, frustrated. “The other people who reported seeing abnormal things also had these spots, mostly on their hands and arms” she confirmed. “And the level of infection so far seems to be at its highest down below… on passenger deck four.”
Dennis frowned deeply. “We’ve got a contamination breach,” he said, becoming concerned. “Something unknown got above the hangar bay quarantines and into the ship.” He quickly tapped a series of numbers into the nearest Comm-link. “Kaufield to Mathison, please respond.” There was a short pause, and Dennis idly wondered if the farming and ranching specialist was even out of bed yet.
“This is Mathison, what can I do for you, sir?”
“Jeff, I hate to bother you this early in the morning but some of our people are showing odd symptoms that preliminarily indicate some sort of unknown biological agent has come aboard the Pathfinder. It’s quite probable that we have some kind of contamination leak on the passenger decks. Please engage a quarantine lock on the Garden and Livestock wings until further notice.” He paused, mentally reviewing the options one more time. “Most of the passengers may complain a bit when they can’t go sightseeing as usual, but we can’t take any chances.”
“Acknowledged,” came the quick reply.
“I’ll have Adam check in with you later when we know more,” Dennis decided. He closed down the link, noting that Karen was already shaking her head.
“Whatever it is it’s all over the ship by now,” she said firmly. “It’s apparently something that’s both airborne and passed along by touch. Since historically only a small percentage of the people who actually have symptoms will actually contact me to ask questions, I think we’ve already got a reasonable-sized problem on our hands.”
“Particularly when a lot of those people will be handling duty shifts in key positions,” Dennis commented. “Do you have any idea where it came from?”
She nodded in response. “We’re set up to monitor these types of things so it’s a piece of cake to track down,” she told him, pointing to two nearby microscopes. Dennis glanced into the view finder of the first one and closely studied a series of enlarged cell samples.
“The long reddish stringy things that are poking into the cells are the cause of the problem, I take it,” he said.
“That’s right,” said Karen. “You’re looking at a skin sample I took from Mary.” She motioned to the second microscope and Dennis moved slightly to take a look at its sample. This time he was looking at a magnified view of a bunch of multi-sized dark particles. Mixed among them were the same long ‘stringy things’.
“And this would be…?” he wondered.
“That is a sample I took from one of the air filters on deck four,” she said. “All of the filters we use vary in density at predetermined points in our ventilation system so that each catches different types of airborne debris. This is part of one of the more finely weaved sets that are currently in use.”
“What are those dark particles?” Mary asked after taking a quick look into both microscopes.
In reply, Karen walked over to the sink next to the examination table and picked up a large, porous piece of foam.
“This is part of one of the filters we replaced on deck four,” she said, holding it up for emphasis. She moved a cigarette lighter under it and – as soon as she lit the flame – the filter quickly disappeared in a cloud of fire. A large popping sound and a cloud of black smoke temporarily filled the room. An overhead fire alarm began clanging but Karen quickly shut it off from a work station mounted on her work table next to the microscopes. “That is supposed to be a fire proof filter,” she pointed out informatively.
“That’s dust… mineral dust from fuel ore,” Dennis growled, shaking his head. He walked over to the Comm-link and tapped in a different number this time.
“This is Colonel Murray Neeland,” was the quick response from its speaker. “What can I do for you, Captain Kaufield?”
“Get your marines out of bed, Colonel,” Dennis ordered. “We’ve got a bomb maker on the ship, quite probably located on deck four.”
“We’re on our way,” Neeland replied resolutely.
* * * * *
Less than an hour later Dennis sat patiently waiting in the office area that connected to the Pathfinder’s brig. The ship didn’t have a large prisoner control system, but it did have a standard jail. He was nursing the remnants of his morning cup of coffee when Colonel Neeland walked in, closely followed by two marines and a handcuffed civilian. The marines kicked the prisoner’s legs out from under him and dropped him sharply onto his knees.
“You can’t legally do this!” the man insisted, trying to stand up. The marines placed the butts of their rifles on his shoulders and forced him back down. “You had no right to enter my quarters without a warrant… I want to see a lawyer!”
“His name is Patrick Warren, part of your hangar crew,” Neeland said, tossing the man’s security tag on the desk in front of Kaufield. “Whether he’s a Brotherhood lover or not is a question that I can’t answer right now.” He looked down at Warren and said with unconcealed hostility, “but I’m looking forward to the chance to find out for you, Captain.”
Kaufield casually gave Patrick the once over. He was a tall, average-looking Caucasian fellow with straight blonde hair. There was just a trace of sandy brown mixed in with the blonde. What was unusual – and immediately obvious – were the darkening reddish-blue blotches on both of his cheeks. Murray angrily grabbed the man’s jaw and barked an order. Patrick immediately opened his mouth in response. Additional darker bruises were readily visible on his tongue and the insides of his cheeks. There were also spots running along the length of both of his arms and neck as well, but it was apparent even without a doctor that his face was the most seriously infected part of his body and in need of immediate treatment.
“Well, I think it’s obvious how he got the fuel ore back to his quarters,” Kaufield commented wryly. “You would be our undercover Brotherhood follower, I take it?”
“Brotherhood?” Warren said suspiciously. “What are you talking about? I’m a loyal hangar bay worker… the Brotherhood is a merciless organization that destroyed our planet.”
“Really,” Colonel Neeland commented. “Your role as a Brotherhood spy would explain how a panicking weasel like you can pick up one of my marines and physically throw him from your living room into your kitchen.” Warren looked down at the floor and said nothing.
“What do your Brotherhood friends want you to accomplish on the Pathfinder?” Kaufield asked, slowly rising to his feet. “Other than blowing up things, that is.”
Warren’s face reddened and he took a couple of panicked breaths. “I swear I didn’t know what they were going to do,” he said, sobbing uncontrollably. “I didn’t know they were going to try and kill everyone Earth. Good God, I didn’t.”
Kaufield’s right cross caught him by surprise and laid Warren flat out on his back. Gasping in pain and surprise he laid there for a moment before scrambling back to his feet. The two marines behind him forced him back to his knees. Blood was trickling from his nose and mouth as the Captain grabbed him firmly by the collar of his shirt.
“That was for trying to build a bomb on my ship,” he said fiercely. “If you’d like, I’ll administer the penalty for deliberately violating quarantine protocol next, and after that we can procee
d directly to the part where we exact penance for what your people did to mine!”
“No, please… that won’t be necessary,” Warren decided. “I was assigned to infiltrate your project and find out as much as I could about the new CAS Drive. I didn’t know the attack on Earth was coming… but when you killed so many of my people during the encounter with the warship, I considered making the bomb as part of my plan for revenge.”
“Considered?” Colonel Neeland commented, holding up a paper envelope filled with dark black mineral dust. “You had a really serious bomb-making factory set up there in your quarters.”
“Last night… I know you won’t believe me…” Warren said, trying to talk between fits of crying. “I had a vision… an evil vision and decided not to use the explosive.” Tears were streaming down his red-spotted cheeks and he looked Kaufield directly in the eyes. “The Devil himself marked me – look at what the evil one did to me! I’ve been physically labeled a killer before I even committed the act. Everywhere I go…” Again a fit of sobbing overtook him, and he put his head in his hands and continued crying.
“You may not have actually killed anyone yourself yet but your organization as a whole has certainly bloodied its hands,” Dennis noted angrily. “Not to mention the fact that you’ve hidden your true identity all this time while conducting covert espionage for the Brotherhood. Then there’s this fuel ore incident, which you knowingly broke our quarantine procedures to accomplish… God only knows what.” Dennis shook his head furiously and then threw Warren’s security pass at him. “I don’t think I can emphasize that part enough – you put the entire crew at risk of infection by an unknown pathogen! We haven’t needed a court system yet on the Pathfinder but I’m sure that we can get the process going as soon as you want your lawyer.” He drew back his fist again and Warren ducked away. “That is, if we can find a lawyer to defend you whose family hasn’t been killed by your buddies back home. I think there will be plenty of bias present during a trial no matter how many precautions we take. The actions of your Brotherhood have made certain of that.”
Patrick Warren sobbed uncontrollably for a few minutes and then struggled to gain control of his crying. He took a couple of deep breaths and glanced over at Colonel Neeland before promptly breaking down into tears again. “Just kill me and get it over with, will you?” he begged. “I never truly knew who I was, but ever since this ship left our home so far behind something is different. It’s agony being away from home, and if I can’t go back then just kill me and be done with it.”
“How many other Brotherhood agents are on board the Pathfinder?” Neeland asked.
“None… this was a top-secret project. Do you know how long it took them just to get me assigned to your hangar crew?” Warren asked. There was a long pause as Dennis thought things over, throughout which Patrick continued to cry uncontrollably while still on his knees in front of Colonel Neeland’s marines. Kaufield sat back down at the desk and casually put his feet up.
“This is what you’re going to do for us…” the Captain said slowly. “You’re going to the Medical Ward, where Dr. Simmons and her colleagues are going to test you, study you, and do whatever the hell else they need to in order to find a cure for this illness your stupidity has spread amongst the crew.” His gaze caught and controlled the fear growing in Warren’s eyes. “After that you’re coming back here to jail. You will, as needed, continue to cooperate with the Medical team for as long as they deem necessary so that we can learn all we need to regarding the genetic enhancements that have been applied to your people.”
“Supposing I refuse your offer,” Warren objected. “I do have rights under your government’s laws, even if I was born outside the Continental U.S. My ancestry is Eastern European, but I have citizenship status…”
“Your friends destroyed your rights when they started their war and blew up the Earth!” Kaufield shouted, pulling his feet down sharply. His expression contorted with barely controlled rage. “We’ve been out here looking for quite some time now, and we still haven’t found anything close to matching it. You miss home? Well then, why the devil did this freaking Brotherhood destroy it?”
“I have the right to refuse to participate in medical experimentation,” persisted Warren.
“Yes you do, in which case I’m prepared to drop all charges against you,” Kaufield snapped back at him.
“Drop… all charges? I don’t understand…” Warren said, confused. He glanced apprehensively toward Murray.
“That’s right, Patrick. If you don’t cooperate with our medical team I’m going to drop the charges against you and have you reassigned to work among the civilian members of the crew.” He pointed at the armed marines standing behind them. “Without the military protection, of course. We need them to keep the key areas of the ship secure from people like you.” The Captain paused again, smiling as he let Warren think the matter over. “I wonder how all those civilians will treat you when they find out who you are and why you’re here. I seriously doubt they’ll grant your wish and kill you right away. Maybe eventually, after they’re done with you…”
“I’ll cooperate,” Warren decided suddenly, slowly getting to his feet. “Damn you, I’ll cooperate…”
Kaufield waved the marines toward the other room. “Please lock up our guest, Colonel,” he said firmly. “I’ll let Dr. Simmons know he’s ready for testing.”
* * * * *
Adam was not at all surprised to find the hatchways leading to both the Garden and Livestock wings tightly closed. Additionally, an extra pair of marines had been assigned to guard each of the four entrances. He walked past the first two doorways that led into the Garden wing and entered the security and maintenance offices located between the agricultural wings.
A series of security monitors lined most of the walls, allowing guards on duty to target and watch various sections or activities taking place within the two wings. There were also a series of workstations that carefully – and constantly – monitored the temperature, humidity, and other conditions on the two flat surfaces of each wing.
“Adam Roh,” Jeff Mathison said cheerfully, waving off a group of three people that he had been talking to. “It’s nice to see you made it up here, because our maintenance technicians are trying to figure out just what we’re going to do with you.”
“Huh?” Adam said, finding himself a bit surprised. “The Captain mentioned that you might need some assistance changing filters and making adjustments to the ventilation equipment. That’s why I’m here.”
“Really,” Jeff said mischievously, walking over to one of the security monitors. “Perhaps you can start by explaining this…” He used a laptop setting on one of the tables to switch the image and a visual of one of the ceilings in the Garden wing flashed into view. It showed a close-up of part of the ceiling – where about eighteen red apples floated harmlessly in the gravity void that separated the first ten inches or so below the ceiling from the normal conditions below.
“Wow,” Adam said proudly. “That looks pretty darn cool, I would have to say.”
“One of the technicians told me you usually float an apple once in a while to let them know you’ve been by. Have you decided that more is better, for some reason?”
“Actually, I can explain that…” Adam said, feeling a slight flush of embarrassment. “You see, I sort of… well, I kind of taught the Captain’s son to do that – you know, just to impress him a little.”
“The villain admits his crime,” grinned Jeff. “We caught the whole thing on tape. The teacher from one of the schools brought a bunch of the kids by on a field trip yesterday afternoon,” he said, unable to stop himself from chuckling. “The minute they passed through the apple grove this happened.”
He switched the monitor’s image again and Adam watched a bunch of giggling kids first pick and then throw a series of apples as high as they could. Some of them came back down and landed in the general area but most of them stuck in the gravity void. The teacher pro
tested futilely through the whole thing and Adam laughed out loud, watching the expression on her face as she looked upward and saw the floating fruit for herself. A look of determination crossed her face and she finally got everyone settled down and moving forward again.
“I’ll be careful what I teach the kid from now on,” Adam said sheepishly, holding up his hands. “You’ve got to admit, it is pretty funny!” He held up the tool kit that he had brought with him. “The Captain sent me up here to help you beef up the filtering systems, at least temporarily.”
“There’s a maintenance team waiting back out into the corridor and off to the left,” Jeff said. “They’ve already been throwing around some ideas, but wanted to wait until they could discuss with you what is possible without putting unnecessary strain on the equipment.”
“I’m on my way,” Adam said, heading back the way he had come. He stopped abruptly and turned back to Mathison. “Speaking of the Captain’s son,” he said, suddenly getting an idea. “I’d like to bring him back up here once we’re finished so he can help me with another project I’m working on. I know you’re under quarantine and everything but you have to send suited technicians into the wings anyway for maintenance on the equipment inside, so my idea shouldn’t be a major problem.”
“What do you have in mind?” Jeff asked, his curiosity obvious.
Adam smiled and promptly told him.
Thomas had decided to watch the Pathfinder’s latest transit from the observation windows in one of the restaurants on deck one. Although the CAS transits between far away points were virtually instantaneous, this one had been worth making the trip for. Despite the fact that there was an unknown biological agent on board, the Captain had discussed the situation with the ship’s medical teams. No one had seen any need to retrace their steps just yet… they had plenty of samples of the mysterious bacterial agent and were already working hard to find a cure.
The Pathfinder Project Page 19
