Stardoc

by S. L. Viehl

  “This is Doctor Grey Veil. I need some help.”

  I sat down beside Reever and monitored his vitals while I waited. I went through every curse I could think of, and made up a few before the orderlies arrived and released the room seals.

  “Get him to the Isolation ward,” I said, rising from the chair. “He’s had a seizure, among other things.”

  The conspicuous scent of sex and my disheveled hair had the orderlies staring at me with considerable interest. I signaled Dr. Mayer as I walked out with the gurney, and heard him respond directly on the audiocom in my suit.

  “Mayer.”

  “It’s Chief Linguist Reever. He’s had an abnormal gran mal seizure. You’ll need to run a full cranial series.”

  “The contagion?”

  “No.” I drew a deep breath. “No sign of it.”

  “Then, what happened?”

  “He attacked me.” I looked down at the man on the gurney. “The seizure occurred later. After he forced me to have sex with him.”

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  K2V1

  “I wasn’t raped. At least, not by Reever.”

  Outside the Isolation ward, Ana Hansen listened as I recounted what had occurred in the Isolation chamber. Behind me, mu Cheft and the conscious patients politely pretended not to be listening.

  “You said it was as if something was controlling him.”

  “He was different. I don’t know. Driven. Even the way he talked was wrong.” I loathed the way I sounded, as though trying to make excuses for him. “He used force at first, but—”

  “You did what you had to?” Ana said in a brittle, shocked voice. “Submitted to avoid further injury?”

  “No.” Aware this was an official report, I had to be completely truthful. No matter how bad it made me look. “In the end I cooperated.”

  Ana was skeptical. “Rape isn’t something Duncan seems, well, capable of.”

  “That isn’t Reever.” I turned my head to look at the unconscious form of the chief linguist. “Not the Reever I know.”

  “Have you learned anything about this seizure he had?”

  “It was what we call a gran mal, or serious, episode. Almost fifteen minutes in duration. He has no history of epilepsy or related disorders. There was no apparent neurological damage. No sign of contagion or pneumonic infection. He’s perfectly normal.”

  “Why is he still unconscious?”

  Dr. mu Cheft joined me at the communications panel as I explained. “We brought him out of it an hour ago, and he began seizing at once. Because of the risk of brain damage, we have to keep him sedated until we know what’s causing the convulsions. Or find a way to stop them.”

  The native ’Zangian coughed heavily as he lifted a flipper to get my attention. “Sorry to interrupt, but you’d better start a chart on me now.”

  I left Ana long enough to get mu Cheft on an exam pad and start Ecla scanning his vitals. When I got back to the panel, I could see the underlying dread beneath her calm exterior.

  “One more thing. I formally request that PQSGO be notified we have an uncontrolled contagion present on K-2.” I hated to put her in that position, but it was her responsibility as well as mine to take the appropriate actions.

  “The Council hasn’t decided events warrant—”

  “Space the Council, Ana. We have to quarantine.”

  “But you haven’t identified a contagion yet.” Ana tried to reason with me. “Joey, we can’t simply shut down the colony and tell everyone they are going to die.”

  “No, you don’t have to do that.” I glanced back at the row of occupied beds. “Why should you? Why try to keep it confined to this planet? Let it spread to another world. Another system. Another Quadrant!”

  Ana shook her head. “It won’t happen.” She had never faced the reality of an uncontrolled epidemic. Neither had the Council.

  “It will, and I’ll tell you exactly how it will,” I said. “After a population is exposed, a number of infected individuals will panic and leave the planet. They’ll scatter and go to other worlds. There are fifteen in this system alone they can reach in a few hours. It only takes one person to infect an entire population. Let’s say only ten are able to escape here, and make it to ten different planets. And ten from each of those worlds leave, and infect ten more planets, and so on.” I did the calculation in my head. “Given the incubation period of this contagion, one-quarter of the inhabited worlds in the Pmoc Quadrant will be contaminated within a month. If the mortality rate is only fifty percent, then at least 728 billion lives will be lost.” I leaned forward, pressing my hands against the containment barrier between us. “Do you really believe 728 billion people should die because the Council wants to play God?”

  “That many?” Her voice cracked as she blanched. Her lovely eyes were wide. “My God, Cherijo. I didn’t know. I really didn’t know.”

  “Go. Make them listen.”

  Later, after I had made Dr. mu Cheft comfortable and finished rounds, Ecla nudged me toward an empty cot.

  “You have to sleep.”

  “Not now.” I went back to Kao Torin’s bed. His bright blue flesh had gradually lightened over the past days. Only his closed eyes were bracketed by deep shadows. I hated to see the tubes entering his body, life-supporting connections that soon would serve no purpose.

  “You’ll be useless unless you rest.” Ecla guessed my thoughts. “I’ll wake you if he shows any signs of system failure. I promise.”

  She took his chart out of my hands and guided me to the cot. Every muscle I possessed protested as I dropped and flung an arm over my eyes. How could I sleep? I had to come up with a treatment, a symptom suppressor, something. There had to be a way. I simply had to review it in my head until I discovered the key.

  “Karas.” Walking into the exam room, a comical sight, covered in purple leaves. Worried we were going to strip him of his pelt. Dying less than twelve hours later. He was the beginning of the chain. “First stage.”

  Ecla and I had gone through decontamination procedures. Rogan had not, and he was the only one who contracted the symptoms.

  “Rogan, second stage.”

  I knew biodecon scanners had no effect on the contagion. Dhreen had scanned himself when we had returned from Caszaria’s Moon. I’d checked his docking logs personally.

  “Me. Ecla. No infection.” Why? What did we have in common?

  We were both female, both exposed at the same time. There seemed to be no other similarities. Was there a hidden link between us? Something we physically shared that protected us? I dismissed the latter thought. Psyorans and Terrans had distinct, very different physiologies.

  I lifted my arm and watched as three more Transport workers were brought in. All displayed signs of the contagion. With a groan I rolled off the cot and took their charts, while Ecla hurried to make beds ready.

  If I didn’t discover the common denominator soon, it wasn’t going to matter anyway.

  “ID the contagion as K2V1,” I was told as Dr. Mayer reviewed my shift report via display.

  “Catchy tag,” I said as I made note. “As in Kevarzangia Two Virus One?”

  “You have a better suggestion?”

  I shook my head. “No, all I can think of is pneumonic plague of unknown origin, and that isn’t exactly reassuring.”

  Mayer’s lip curled. “I’m having the contents of your lab moved to the isolation wing.” He gazed at my nurse. “Give me an update on the number of new cases.”

  “We’ve admitted fifteen new cases in the last hour,” Ecla read from her patient roster. She stretched and made a haunting movement that rippled through her median ridges. We were both far past exhaustion and running on nerves. “Current bed count is thirty-seven.”

  “Transport has shut down operation. I’ve ordered their people to undergo screening in one of the storage facilities,” I said. “We’ll be forced to move the ward itself to one soon. We can’t allot space for more than twenty additional cases.”
/>   Mayer nodded. “The Council has contacted PQSGO and put the colony on quarantine status.”

  Ana had made them listen, after all.

  “Any chance some volunteer professionals will shuttle in?” my fatigued nurse asked. “We could use some help.”

  I was the only attending physician. Mu Cheft was growing worse, and Ecla was practically wilting before my eyes. That left me and the two orderlies who were still ambulatory to deal with thirty-seven cases. Twenty of whom were critical.

  “No,” I said, despite that. “I don’t want anyone else exposed.”

  Mayer shook his head. “Even if they wanted to, the surgeon general has prohibited any transport to or from the surface. No exceptions. Quadrant cruisers are being dispatched to enforce the quarantine.”

  That meant Quadrant officials were beginning to panic. “How far will they take enforcement measures?” I asked.

  Mayer was grim. “The cruisers have orders to destroy any unauthorized transport.”

  “Suns.”

  “Be prepared. Rumors are spreading. Security can’t cope with too many hysterical colonists.”

  I knew what that could mean. “Do you think we need to move the patients now?”

  He indicated a troop of Security officers had been dispatched to protect the FreeClinic. “Stay alert.”

  “Right.” No problem. The threat of an epidemic and mob riots would do just fine as a stimulate.

  “Some of the nurses have volunteered to work with you, and assist with the incoming cases.”

  “Excellent,” Ecla said with a weak ripple. “Send them over.”

  “No,” I said. “All I need is Ecla. I’m not that tired.”

  “Dr. Grey Veil,” Mayer said, the same way he’d say Stupid Woman, “your nurse is ready to collapse.”

  “I’ll put her to bed and tuck her in.”

  His lips thinned. “You cannot oversee this ward alone.”

  So did mine. “Watch me.”

  The chief wasn’t impressed by my tough act. “When the bed count reaches fifty, I will send in one volunteer nurse per hour.” He stepped away from the panel and stalked off.

  I felt my teeth grind, and then I heard voices and looked up through one of the view panels. A Security team darted back and forth, taking up defensive positions. A dense crowd had formed just beyond the facility. They didn’t look like anxious family members, either.

  Rumors spread faster than contagion—so did hysteria.

  Dr. mu Cheft and seven others had to be intubated within hours. I ordered more ventilators and threatened Ecla with sedation to get her to rest.

  It was quiet. Most of the patients were too weak to create much trouble. Medical staffers, with their experience, stayed grimly silent. The transport workers were less cooperative. I had to restrain and sedate one dock hauler who decided he’d had enough and started yanking tubes from his body.

  Dhreen was still in a coma. The synplasma and surgical repairs helped, but not enough to slow the effects of the contagion. He wouldn’t have to worry about learning to walk again. He was dying.

  I left examining Kao Torin and the chief linguist until the end of my rounds. Reever first.

  Duncan lay there, sedated, harmless. I scanned him quickly. No change. I could still smell his scent on my skin. When I licked my dry lips, I tasted him. He remained stable and unconscious. On the chief’s orders, and to prevent my arrest for manslaughter, I kept him that way.

  Kao was clinging to life, his broad chest rising and falling in slow repetitions. If an antidote or treatment was not found in the next few hours, he would die, too.

  Through the night, I walked my rounds. Studied charts. Ran more data. Found nothing. Cursed at the console. Walked rounds. Held Kao’s hand. Kicked inanimate objects. Went back to studying charts. It seemed endless.

  Ecla exchanged places with me. I slept a few hours, jerking awake to the sounds of angry shouts. Outside the FreeClinic, the still-growing crowd was getting nasty. We could hear them plainly through a security monitor Ecla had switched on. A suggestion that all infected colonists be systematically exterminated actually got applause.

  I deactivated the monitor. The patients didn’t need to listen to their neighbors spewing that kind of waste.

  The nurse brought me a meal that I picked at while she quietly reviewed individual case histories. Everything tasted like plasfood. We were halfway through the stack of charts when Dr. Rogan and a group of colonists burst through the corridor entrance, just outside Isolation.

  “There she is!” Rogan said, pointing through the sealed panel at me.

  I swallowed what I was chewing and got to my feet. “Ecla,” I said, smiling at the wrathful mob. “Signal Security. Now.”

  The mob started to approach the clear divider, when Security forces came in from the opposite direction, brandishing weapons. The colonists turned on them, and the two groups began exchanging ugly threats. I went to the display and increased the audio level so I could be heard.

  “Dr. Rogan, what a surprise.” My voice echoed over the commotion. “How nice to see you and your . . . friends.”

  “She’s Terran,” Rogan ignored me as he incited the mob. “They’re zealots, xenophobes! She was sent here to kill us all!”

  “Rational as ever, too.” I gazed at the faces creating a wall of rage behind the Security officers and addressed them. “I wasn’t sent here to kill anyone. We’re attempting to contain the contagion until we can find a vaccine.”

  “Lies, all lies!” Rogan said, polyps whirring madly. “She wants to wipe out every non-Terran on this planet!” The mob made a rumbling sound.

  I lied. I wanted Rogan dead. Now. I kept the smile pasted on my lips. “This your idea of gratitude?” I asked him. “Or didn’t you tell your friends here that I saved your life?”

  “You tried to kill me!”

  I made a deliberate survey. “You look pretty healthy to me. Why are you doing this, Rogan? Is it because you’re half-Terran? Afraid someone might question your loyalties?”

  “We want justice!” Rogan said, and the crowd echoed an uneasy agreement. Guess they didn’t know Rogan had Terran blood.

  I addressed the crowd. “The only thing between you and the contagion is this barrier.” I tapped the containment wall with my fingers, and everyone went quiet. “If it is breached, everyone in the room will be infected.” I put my hand on the barrier release. The click of the mechanism was like a gunshot in the stillness. “Of course, if you really want me . . .”

  Fear worked wonders. The mob broke up and most fled. Rogan began to rave, darting through the frantic, retreating mass, tugging at limbs.

  “Don’t walk away! She’s bluffing! She—”

  “That’s enough, Dr. Rogan.”

  Dr. Mayer and Dr. Dloh appeared, followed by a fresh contingent of Security forces. My boss faced what was left of Rogan’s followers. “Are you people volunteering to assist Dr. Grey Veil?”

  That cleared the last of them out. Dr. Dloh shambled over to Dr. Rogan, who viewed the total defection with sputtering incredulity.

  “Phorap,” the huge arachnid said, lifting an appendage. “You are zcheduled for a zhift in Trauma.”

  “I’m not leaving until that bitch—”

  “Now.”

  Rogan sneered. “Dloh, you can’t—”

  Dr. Dloh spat a thin, semitransparent stream of fluid from his U-shaped orifice at Rogan. The substance hardened the second it encircled his body. Rogan struggled and yelled, but after a minute, he was completely gagged and immobilized. Dloh lifted him like a neatly wrapped package.

  “I’ll juzt take him back to work. Dr. Mayer, Dr. Grey Veil.”

  “Thanks.” It was too bad Dloh was such an evolved creature. I would have been happy to watch my colleague make Phorap Rogan his next meal.

  Dr. Mayer directed the Security forces to take positions inside and out of the facility, then gave me an update. The bad news came first.

  “Transport has advised at
least fifty more cases of pneumonic infection have been identified. Most working positions with high passenger contact.”

  That meant the contagion could no longer be contained. Anyone who had shuttled in would have been contaminated. The new arrivals, infected by the transport workers, would go on to spread the disease to the general population.

  The colonists who had shuttled out—

  “How many got offplanet?”

  “According to estimates, over thirty. All still space-bound.”

  Thank God for that much. “Are they being instructed to return to the planet?”

  “No,” The chief replied. “None are well enough to pilot their vessels. Their ships are being towed back into orbit to be held until the Quadrant decides what to do with them.”

  “Not well enough?”

  “All passengers are reported to be in critical condition. The contagion seems to work more quickly in space.”

  “Damned bug doesn’t like leaving home,” I said without thinking, and then my head snapped up. “Hold on.” I remembered an embarrassing moment I had endured with a tiny life-form during my first weeks on K-2.

  “What?”

  “This may sound crazy, but . . . the pathogen itself could be sentient.”

  “You’re right.” The chief smiled sourly. “That’s crazy.”

  “If Karas touched something—ingested a plant, perhaps—”

  “It would show up on the toxicology series.”

  “Maybe not.” I rubbed my hand over my eyes. “Our scanners may read it as digested food. Many of the colonists are vegetarians.”

  “Plants are not sentient.”

  “Some life-forms evolved from plants,” I said. “Ecla’s people were once rooted, flowering stationaries. Karas was collecting plant samples when he became infected.”

  “Sentient plant life?” Mayer scowled at me as he enunciated each word. “Even after consumption, it would show up as an organic. We would have seen the same in case after case.”

  “Not if it’s an unclassified anaerobic microorganism.”

  His sharp eyes rolled. “You’re inventing this theory out of desperation!”

  “There’s one person who can prove it.” I nodded at the unconscious form of Duncan Reever.