Vectors

by Dean Wesley Smith

  “It sounds serious,” she said.

  “It is.” Then he paused and looked at her. They had always been attracted, and incompatible. He missed that soft, calm manner of hers. She had never been as intense as he was, but she was as driven, perhaps more so. She simply believed in conserving her energy for important things.

  “Are you all right?” she asked softly.

  “Tired,” he said, “and distracted. There’s too much I don’t know, Katherine, and I have no time to learn it.”

  “Well,” she said in that slow way of hers. “I wanted to tell you that I am no longer on the Enterprise. If you need to reach me, I’ll be on Deep Space Five for a short time. I’ll let you know when I go elsewhere. I haven’t gotten my new duty assignment yet.”

  So that was her ostensible reason for this contact. Brilliant, Katherine. “Thank you,” he said. “I always appreciate knowing what’s happening with you.”

  She smiled. He loved that smile still, and missed it more than he wanted to admit. “Please,” she said. “Take care of yourself.”

  And then she signed off. He sat in front of his system for a moment and forced himself to breathe. The Cardassians would find nothing amiss with that message, and yet he heard an entirely different conversation than the one they had in words. That was the benefit of having once been married; he and Katherine had a language all their own.

  What she had really done was ask him about the plague. She had heard it was on Bajor, and was surprised he wasn’t there treating it. He told her that it was bad, and that it wasn’t just affecting Bajorans. The Cardassians had it too, which was why he was on Terok Nor. He also told her, as best he could in that limited conversation, that he had no solutions. Katherine was an excellent physician. She would know what that meant.

  He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. That might be the last time he talked with her. Ever. If he got this thing.

  But he couldn’t think that way.

  He didn’t dare.

  He stood. What he wouldn’t give to have her here, now. She was the best researcher he knew, and she was up on all the current information. Her position at Starfleet gave her access to medical information from almost everywhere. He knew that the Federation had dealt with this sort of cross-species contamination, but he didn’t remember where, and he didn’t have the resources to find out. Katherine would.

  She had one other asset that he couldn’t discount. The most important one. She was one of the most creative physicians in the quadrant. She had discovered and neutralized all sorts of alien viruses, and she had a knack for discovering the right solution at the right time. If Katherine were here, she would look at that virus and the way it affected Cardassians versus the way it affected Bajorans, and she would know the detail he was missing. She would know, or she would do everything she could to find out.

  Just as he was doing.

  He sighed. Even if Narat wouldn’t meet his terms, he would go to the Cardassian medical section. He had to. Discovering how to neutralize this virus was the only chance they had.

  And maybe the only chance his people had.

  Chapter Seven

  DUKAT CONSTANTLY LOOKED at his skin. It was still gray. But he was rubbing it all the time. It had been crawling since the last time he had been in the medical area. He wasn’t sick yet, but he had a hunch he was infected. He had a hunch they all were.

  He didn’t want to return to the medical area, but he had to. Narat hadn’t reported since Kellec Ton had made his demands. Lower production. Eight-hour sleep schedules for Bajorans. Kellec’s people were strong. They didn’t need such precautions. Kellec Ton was taking advantage of Dukat, and Dukat was letting him.

  It wouldn’t last long. When this disease was cured he would make the Bajorans work double and triple shifts to make up for the lost production. He had to. He had quotas to fill. If he fell behind, he would lose his position here on Terok Nor. And that was the last thing he wanted.

  The second-to-last thing. The last thing he wanted was to be the gul who watched an entire space station succumb to an incurable plague.

  He stepped inside the medical area. It was jammed with patients. All the biobeds were full. Cardassians and Bajorans lay side by side, apparently not noticing each other. Bajoran and Cardassian medical workers examined the sick, carrying pads, studying readouts, administering pain medication.

  The stench in the area was worse than before. Dukat put a hand over his mouth and nose. He couldn’t help himself. The smell was so powerful, he doubted it would ever leave him. He would have to destroy his clothes.

  If the odor was that strong, did that mean the quarantine fields weren’t working? The crawling sensation in his skin grew worse.

  He was a soldier. He had seen death countless times. He could handle this as well.

  But he knew, deep down, that this was different. This was the kind of death every soldier feared. Impossible to resolve. Death by weakness, by illness, not in the course of battle, not for some important cause, but because something microscopic managed to defeat the body because the body wasn’t strong enough to handle it.

  Dukat made his way through the rows of moaning people to the office. He stopped at the door. Narat sat at one terminal, Kellec Ton at another. Above them, holographic images of the virus spun in slow circles. Computer readouts scrolled on each side, one readout in Cardassian, the other in Bajoran. The office was dark except for the light near the terminals themselves and whatever light was given off by the holographic image.

  Dukat stared at it for a moment. Enlarged, the virus looked like an alien species, vibrant and alive. He didn’t know much about biology—he didn’t know the terminology for the prongs, or the fat center of the thing, or the ladder-like connectors on the sides. All he knew was that he would see the thing in his dreams. If he ever had time to sleep again.

  “Are you finding anything?” he asked.

  Both men jumped. Neither had heard him arrive. At least they were working hard. Narat turned to him. Kellec took another sample vial and placed it in the scope. He didn’t bother to turn at all.

  “Not enough,” Narat said.

  “We have found several things,” Kellec said.

  “We’re just not finding out what we need quick enough,” Narat said.

  Kellec still hadn’t turned. Dukat closed the door. “What things?”

  “Well,” Narat said, even though Dukat had directed the question at Kellec. “We have been able to confirm that this virus was created.”

  “Created?”

  “By someone,” Kellec said. “It doesn’t occur in nature.”

  “We had suspected as much when we knew that it affected both Bajorans and Cardassians, but the virus’s structure confirms it,” Narat said. “See the—”

  “I trust your opinion,” Dukat said. “What does this mean?”

  “Someone created it,” Kellec snapped. “Someone targeted us intentionally, either both of our peoples or one of them.”

  Dukat suppressed a sigh. He had sent word to Central Command and to his contacts in the Obsidian Order. No one knew the cause of this virus, or if they did they weren’t admitting it.

  “If we could find who did this,” Narat said, “we’d probably find a solution.”

  “But we don’t have any time,” Kellec said.

  “I know,” Dukat said. The casualties throughout the station were growing.

  “No, you don’t know,” Kellec said.

  Narat put a hand on Kellec’s arm, but Kellec shook it away. He faced Dukat.

  “This virus is extremely lethal.” Kellec slid his chair back and pointed to the image above him. This time it showed small round blobs that appeared to be floating in something. “These are normal Bajoran cells. Now watch what happens when I introduce just one virus.”

  The virus was darker and flatter than the cells. It had a nonsymmetrical shape, accentuated by the precision of the cells themselves. It looked like a scout for an invading army.

  Dukat s
tepped farther into the office, fascinated in spite of himself. The virus latched on to the nearest cell. Then the virus destroyed the cell and moved to another. If a cell happened to divide, the virus did too. The process was repeated cell by cell.

  “The incubation period, at least in Bajorans, is fairly long for a virus of this type,” Kellec said. “We don’t know how it’s introduced to the body, but we do know that once the virus has infiltrated the system, the disease progresses very rapidly.”

  Very rapidly. As Dukat watched, the virus destroyed the last remaining healthy cell.

  He shuddered.

  “I don’t know if we can reverse the virus’s path,” Kellec said. “It completely destroys any cells it touches. But I suspect that we could stop it in the incubation phase—if we could only find it.”

  “This is the Bajoran version,” Dukat said. “What about the Cardassian?”

  “The virus seems to be the same, with slight differences; but it reacts the same way to Cardassian cells,” Narat said. “It’s as I told you before. Only the symptoms are different. But I am having no more luck than Kellec in discovering the way the virus is spread.”

  Kellec turned in his chair. His face seemed thinner than it had before, and he had deep shadows under his eyes. The disease was taking something from him as well, and he wasn’t even sick.

  “Actually,” he said. “We’re not being entirely accurate. You saw what happened in my sample. If I were to take the virus and touch you with it, either through fluid or saliva, you would get sick and die within the day. That is happening to some of our people. But they are not the ones who hold the secret. The ones who hold the secret are the ones who have incubated the disease for days or weeks. We do not know how many people are incubating it now. I’m testing my own blood to see if I am, but so far I have found nothing.”

  “We do know,” Narat said, “that the virus itself can be spread by touch and through bodily fluids, but not through the air. But it has moved into too many people to be spread simply that way, so something else is spreading it. We just don’t know what.”

  Dukat tensed.

  “We have been cautioning everyone, but I suspect it’s too late. We must not allow anyone to leave Terok Nor, and no one should come here.” Narat bowed his head. “We have to remain completely isolated until the disease has passed.”

  Dukat straightened his shoulders. He had stopped all departures from Terok Nor already, and he wasn’t allowing most arrivals. But the ore shipments continued, and he had been planning to allow the ore ships that were docked, waiting for processed material, to leave when they reached their quotas. To fail at this would mean admitting to Central Command that Terok Nor was crippled.

  But it was crippled—perhaps dying.

  “You haven’t done that already?” Kellec sounded shocked. “We explained how important quarantine was.”

  “I’ve done what was needed,” Dukat said. He wasn’t about to admit that he hadn’t done a full quarantine on Terok Nor.

  “Do more,” Kellec snapped.

  “You’re out of line, Bajoran,” Dukat said.

  Kellec tilted his head. “What are you going to do to me? Kill me?”

  Dukat froze, then forced himself to breathe, hoping Kellec hadn’t seen the expression on his face. Kellec had hit something Dukat hadn’t realized: If the surviving Bajorans believed they had nothing left to lose, if they believed they would die anyway, they might rebel in ways that the Cardassians couldn’t stop, particularly if his people were ill. He would become the gul not just of a station that succumbed to a plague, but a station in which all the Cardassians were overthrown before the plague took everyone out.

  “I wouldn’t be so smug, Kellec,” Dukat said. “You blame my people for this disease, but yours could just as easily be responsible. Your rebels are sometimes willing to die for what they believe in. They might think: If a few Bajorans die to rid the universe of the Cardassians, that is not such a great price.”

  “My people aren’t the ones attempting genocide,” Kellec said. “Yours are.”

  “If we were attempting genocide,” Dukat said, “your people would all be dead by now. Don’t you see that Cardassian rule is better for you than leaving you to your own devices?”

  “I’m sure it is,” Kellec said. “My people are so happy processing your precious uridium.”

  “Please,” Narat said. “Please. Both our peoples are dying. Can’t we stop recriminations for a few moments and just concentrate on saving lives?”

  “It is not in Gul Dukat’s nature to save lives,” Kellec said.

  “That’s right,” Dukat said sarcastically. “That’s why you’re on the station. Because I have not a thread of compassion in my system.”

  “Stop this!” Narat shouted. “Now!”

  Both Dukat and Kellec turned to him. Dukat had never seen Narat so flustered. Not even when his medical section was filled with casualties all needing his attention did Narat look this distressed.

  “We have to find a way to destroy this disease,” Narat said, “or we will all die. Bajoran, Cardassian, it doesn’t matter. The virus doesn’t seem to care. And neither can we. We have to work together.”

  He stood. He was of the same height as Dukat, but his back was hunched after years of studying and researching, bending over computers and lab specimens. Narat had served as a field medic, but he had never been a soldier. His body lacked the rigid discipline that Dukat’s had.

  “I know you realize how serious this is,” Narat said to Dukat, “but I don’t think you realize the scale. People are dying on Bajor as well. It will only be a matter of time before this spreads to Cardassia Prime. We may have spread it there in our ore freighters. Kellec and I do not know, and we can’t even hazard a guess. We don’t know how long this thing incubates. We may have contracted this disease from Bajor months ago, and may have been spreading it to Cardassia Prime all this time. Or even farther. We don’t know.”

  Dukat took a deep breath. He hadn’t thought of that. “I can’t do anything about that,” he said. “Central Command knows we have sick Bajorans here, and that the disease has spread to our people. They know the extent of the disease on Bajor. They will have to work out the rest of it themselves.”

  “I’m not telling you this so that you do anything about Cardassia Prime,” Narat said, “although if I knew of something you could do, I would tell you. No. I’m telling you this because Kellec and I need help. We have been treating sick patients and trying to find a cure for this disease. We are making progress, but it’s not enough, and it’s not fast enough. The more minds we have working on this, the better.”

  “You can link with doctors and researchers all over Cardassia,” Dukat said.

  “It’s not enough,” Kellec said. “We’ve contacted Bajor as well, and the physicians there are as tired and as stumped as we are.”

  Dukat sensed they already had a solution. They were simply preparing him to hear it. Which meant he wouldn’t like it.

  “I have heard rumors,” Kellec said, “that the Federation dealt with a virulent cross-species disease recently, and found a way to contain it.”

  “You heard this—what, a few hours ago, when you received that wonderfully sweet message from your ex-wife?”

  Kellec flushed. Good, Dukat thought. The doctor had gotten a bit too arrogant for Dukat’s tastes. It was good to give him a bit of his own medicine.

  “No.” Kellec was obviously struggling to maintain his composure. “I knew of this before.”

  “So why didn’t you ask her about it?”

  “Because I thought someone might be listening in,” Kellec snapped.

  “But,” Narat said quickly, “the contact did give us an idea.”

  So, Narat was going to present this idea. And he was going to present it as his own as well as Kellec’s.

  “I’m waiting,” Dukat said.

  “Kellec’s ex-wife, Dr. Katherine Pulaski, is one of the Federation’s best doctors. She is currently n
ot assigned anywhere.”

  “If she’s one of the best, why doesn’t she have an assignment?”

  “She will,” Kellec said. “The Federation is arguing within itself. There’s too much demand for her services.”

  “So how does this apply to us?” Dukat asked.

  “We’d like to bring her here. Have her work with us, and focus on the research itself,” Narat said.

  “No,” Dukat said. “I will not have the Federation here.”

  “She wouldn’t come as part of the Federation,” Kellec said. “I could ask her to come for a family emergency.”

  “No,” Dukat said again. “She’s Federation. And I will not have them here.” How many times did he have to repeat himself?

  “Don’t say no yet, Dukat,” Narat said. “There’s another, quite compelling, reason I think we should go with this plan.”

  Dukat crossed his arms. All he needed was the Federation to get its hooks into this place. They’d been looking for ways for years to discredit the Cardassians. This would be a first step. “What’s your compelling reason?”

  “She’s human,” Narat said.

  Dukat shrugged.

  “Chances are, she will not get this plague.”

  “So?” Dukat asked.

  Narat put a hand on Dukat’s arm. “Think of it. Right now, you have Kellec and me working on a cure for this disease. We can’t keep up with both the research and caring for the patients. If one of us succumbs or, even worse, if both of us do, that’s effectively signing a death warrant for you, Terok Nor, and all of Bajor.”

  Dukat stared at Narat’s hand until Narat moved it. “We’ll send for someone from Cardassia Prime, then,” Dukat said.

  “But would they come?”

  Narat’s question hung between them for a moment. Dukat didn’t have an answer. Or maybe he did and didn’t want to face it. What would he do, if he were on Cardassia Prime and making decisions from there? He wouldn’t see the death, wouldn’t smell it. The lives here would be statistics, except for the handful of people he knew, and even then, he would have to evaluate their importance to Cardassia. Coldly.