*
“What are we doing?”
Isjidakawi looked up at Lijfomid who looked like he hadn’t slept for a few days either. He automatically noted the weight loss. Stomaches playing up he assumed. “Trying to identify it. No cases on the ships yet.”
“Are you taking precautions with the dead Yakkidimux?”
“Full Hazmat. But my guess is that it is a neurotoxin. How it is introduced is the problem. Not all had eaten. Some had their own fluid and food supplies. Neurotoxins are not usually airborne. I don’t feel well.” He sat down. Without permission.
Lijfomid looked at him. He didn’t feel very well but by Isjidakawi’s description, he was only in the early stages. He wondered how he would feel once he was in the next stage. He was nauseous and noticed that micro bleeds had started. He was bruising easily and his joints were sore. He felt totally overwhelmed. He had no evidence to indicate where the attack was coming from. He assumed it was internal, maybe another ship captain who wanted to make Commander. That would make sense. But all the ship’s captains were Keulfyd.
Isjidakawi thought this was another Race attacking the Keulfyd. It couldn’t be another ship’s captain unless that captain had the anti viral. But there were sick on all the ships. So if this was another captain, he was letting his own ship’s crew be infected. That wasn’t very nice. The crew would be majorly miffed at the risk. The sick would be positively peeved. The dead would feel definitely demeaned, devalued and deprived. Lijfomid sat with his head in his hands, shocked. His thoughts were wandering all over the place. What was wrong with him? This wasn’t funny! Was he hysterical? Was he bleeding into his brain?
Lijfomid was so tired and so sick he was having trouble reasoning this through. It didn’t make sense. And he couldn’t exactly call the Security Patrol. That was the trouble when you did something illegal. But mass murder of their own kind was pretty drastic, even for Keulfyd. Whoever was doing this would not live long he vowed forgetting that by the look of things neither would he.
Lijfomid had met with his officers yesterday. They were stumped too. None of them had any proof nor any bright ideas. They did, however, make the decision to order all in the cities to disarm the rest of their mercenaries, the few that weren’t sick, and lock away their weapons. That would leave only the Relogs armed. The Relogs were not sick. They were also stupid and unimaginative he thought.
Helkmid’s anticipation was spot on. Armed mercenaries with paranoia, hallucinations and no actual targets could be a problem. Only the sentries were now armed. They were Relogs. Relogs were not generally thought of as Thinkers.
But Lijfomid got this wrong too as did Helkmid. The Relogs were fully capable of working out the cogent points. Many sick, more and more dying, no identified target, no who, where, when, what or why. Badly worried leaders. Relogs were perfectly capable of worrying. They were presently demonstrating lots of that. They thought their leaders had cocked up badly. Not for the first time. Normally it was petty stuff like right weapon, wrong ammunition provided. Just because they normally didn’t complain didn’t mean they couldn’t think. They had a lot less respect for the Keulfyd than Lijfomid thought. And what respect they did have was further reducing, steadily. They were starting to make some of their own decisions; like the extra patrols. This was unprecedented. But because the Keulfyd in charge of the sentries was very sick and therefore rather preoccupied, she didn’t even notice.
The surface to air missiles in the cities, originally taken down for the city’s defence, were now perceived as a potential threat. Lijfomid ordered them locked up too, to protect his ships. That morning, the disarmament had been completed. Again, perfect anticipation on Helkmid’s part. And the Keulfyd had done all this to protect themselves…maybe from themselves.
They were on red alert anyway. Most of their attention was on the other spaceships. That was where they expected an attack to come from. Lijfomid sat down. He couldn’t think straight. He had been through battles and many of these takeover forces, including one or two that had turned out badly. A mining asteroid had proved a disaster. They had ended up having to destroy it. It had been well armed. And the gunners had been very good. Shockingly good. Better than their professionals. That was one of the problems one forgot about. People fighting for their lives tended to get desperate. They took chances, they behaved heroically and they took huge risks. Sometimes, like the Niseyen, they got downright petty and decided to take the attackers with them. He hated self destructs. They were so unnatural. And so terrifying. He had nightmares about them.
Most of these actions were against small targets: individual buildings, the very occasional bank if they needed capital, the occasional civil war. But this was the worst. It was not knowing what was going on. Not knowing who was doing this. No visible enemy. Not knowing where the next attack was coming from. Or when. No targets to aim at.
Alien Alliance Page 47
