The United Federation Marine Corps' Lysander Twins: The Complete Series: Books 1-5

by Jonathan P. Brazee

  “Bing, I think it is a little worse than that,” she said.

  “Yes, I know some of the people are upset. But they have to realize that we have limited bed space and resources to treat people. If we can come up with the vaccine and anti-viral, we’ll save far more people than if we put our resources into comforting those who are going to die anyway. Josiah knows that. He’ll be explaining it to them.”

  “They won’t listen, Bing. Use your head. What would you do if you thought you needed treatment, but someone said ‘Sorry, but we’re trying to save others, so leave us alone?’”

  “Oh, come on, Esther. Aren’t you being a bit overdramatic?”

  “I don’t think I am. And as the head of project security, I have to insist that you tell Josiah to get his ass back inside the compound, now.”

  There was silence for a moment, then Bing said, “Whatever. I don’t have time for this. I still think you’re being overly dramatic, but I’ll tell Josiah to return. I need him now anyway.”

  “Thank you, Bing.”

  She watched, waiting for Josiah to break off, but he kept talking, his hand gesturing as he tried to make a point.

  “Esther, I can’t reach Josiah,” Bing passed to her. “He’s not answering. Why don’t you tell him to come back inside? Tell him I said so.”

  All of them had small, behind-the-ear comm sets, tied into both their PAs as well as the comms station that was set up in the lounge. Hood off or not, Josiah should be responding.

  “Ah, hell. I’m going out there, Paul,” she said as she started for the exit.

  “No, Captain, stop. Don’t leave.”

  “I’ve got to. It’s not that bad yet.”

  “I mean I won’t let you, ma’am. To protect them out there. You need to go into decon first.”

  She looked at him in surprise. Things were hot, and he was going to stop her. Looking at him, his body tensed, she realized he wasn’t bluffing. He would stop her. And it hit her. He was right. She had to decon first. Hell, she’d just wrapped up Mr. Washburn and taken his body to the incinerator. If anyone had the risk of being contaminated, it was her, much more than those people out there. She’d gone through the Ward 1 irradiation ring, but still, she could still be a vector for the virus right now.

  She was worried about Josiah and Michelle, but Paul was worried about the people of Lorton-Delos AG. At least he was taking his duties seriously.

  “You’re right, Paul. Thanks. Cycle me through.”

  She stood in the chamber, arms held out wide, as the wash, hit her, then the irradiation. Coming out on the other side, she nodded at Paul, turned to Josiah, then in afterthought, turned back to Paul.

  “You have a super-skunk?”

  The FAID team was not armed, which made Esther feel decidedly naked. They were not openly armed, to be more precise, but that was hardly better. The case of M99’s she and Jim had brought were in the storage shed, something to use only as a last resort. But as a matter of course, the team had several crowd-dispersing tools, not the least being the MC-505. It fired a 40mm grenade, nicknamed a “super-skunk,” that sent out a cloud of one of the vilest concoctions known to man. It was bent-over-vomiting-and-crawling-in-the-dirt bad. Once out of the cloud, the symptoms disappeared immediately, but it was a very rare person who could even think straight while in it.

  “Sure do. Five rounds at the post at all times.”

  “OK, I want you to get it. If I call, blanket the area, got it?”

  “Roger that, ma’am,” he said with a slight smile creasing his face.

  “OK, see you in a few—I hope.”

  Esther had only taken a few steps when the third team member, who she hadn‘t identified yet, was shoved from behind by someone trying to confront Josiah, who saw it and stepped forward to protest. Almost immediately, a fist from the crowd cold-cocked the doctor, and he went down. The crowd surged forward as Esther broke into a sprint.

  “Paul, blanket us!” she shouted as she hit the back of the press of people, knocking several to the ground before they knew she was there.

  At least two men, one with a mask, the other without, his face enraged, continued striking downwards, undoubtedly pounding on Josiah. Michelle was holding her own, but barely, and Gaius Wójcik, Esther finally identified the third man , was wildly swinging his fists.

  Esther burst through the ring of people and launched herself at the maskless man who was pummeling Josiah when, with a thunk and hiss, the first of the super-skunks hit. The man, who was now bent over, realized he was now a target, and he just managed to stand when Esther hit him low, knocking him off the prone doctor.

  Esther rolled over and onto one knee, and her target’s face was red with anger as he scrambled to meet her—until the moment the super-skunk’s payload hit him. Immediately, the look of anger turned to horror, and he dropped to the ground retching.

  Esther was knocked flat when someone hit her from behind, but it was the hit of pushing bodies, not a directed strike. Down low, she took a moment to check Josiah, and her heart fell. His face was hamburger. He coughed a few times as the vapor hit him, but he didn’t regain full consciousness.

  She sensed more than felt something behind her and turned her head to see a man in an ancient protective mask, his arms held high with a club with which he was about to smash her. Esther tried to slip to the side, but with bodies in the way, she knew it was a lost cause. She raised her right arm in an attempt to ward off the blow when another body flew in front of her, hitting her assailant high in the chest, sending both of them backwards. The club, jolted free, fell to the ground, bouncing once before rapping Esther in the knee.

  By now, two more super-skunks had landed, and the vapors were affecting visibility as well. Bodies were still in motion, but now, they were simply trying to escape, to stumble to clear air.

  “Michelle!” Esther shouted, spotting her bright yellow PPE. “Help me with Josiah.”

  “I’ve got him,” Jim said, pushing forward.

  It took Esther a moment to realize that Jim was the one who’d saved her ass a moment earlier.

  “What about—”

  “I ripped off his mask. He’s non-effective now, puking, probably. Here, I’ve got the doc. You and Michelle help Wójcik.”

  The lab tech was just struggling to his feet, and Esther grabbed him by the upper arm, stumbling over prone bodies and she half-led, half-dragged the bigger man towards the gate. A moment later, Michelle took his other arm, and together, they reached safety, quickly followed by Jim, Josiah slung across his shoulders.

  “Decon now,” Paul was shouting at Nanci Manuel.

  Nanci was waving the five forward, and they crowded into the wash. Esther pushed Wójcik upright, spread her arms, and let out a sigh of relief as the spray coated her body, followed by the irradiation. She’d felt vulnerable out there, but her PPE displayed the steady green of an intact suit.

  Fuck, Josiah! What about you?

  She turned to see the doctor, who Jim had slid off his shoulders. The spray had washed off some of the blood, and he had four or five deep gashes across his face. His nose was obviously broken as well.

  “Mz. Jennard,” Nanci shouted out. “I’m getting traces on Doctor Sengatjuo and Captain Aylsworth.”

  Oh, hell. Jim!

  “I’ve got it, Nanci,” Veta said as she rushed over from Ward 1. “Let them in.”

  Sick people came into the compound as a matter of course, but letting them in required the approval from one of the medical staff.

  Veta had a gurney, and as soon as the interior gate opened, Esther helped Jim lay Josiah on it.

  “You, come with me,” Veta told Jim as she followed the gurney into the ward.

  Esther didn’t know what to do, so she gave Jim a pat on the shoulder and followed him. She couldn’t help but notice the torn knees of his jeans and the bloody scrape the tear revealed. She was pretty sure he’d torn them coming to her aid.

  “I want a full zymex irrigation,” Veta told Bryce
, the nurse on duty as he came rushing out from the ward into triage.

  Two civilians were in the waiting area, and they looked on in horror as Veta went to work. She cut off Josiah’s PPE with sure, quick movements, pealing him like a grape. Next came the mesh monosuit he was wearing. She ran her hands over Josiah’s body, lifting him up on one side to check his back.

  “Looks like it’s just the face,” she said.

  Just the face? Isn’t that enough?

  Veta slapped an impact IV on Josiah’s inner thigh, dialing up the anti-viral cocktail the doctors on the team thought might help fight the virus the best. She checked the readout, and then ran her hands over his skull. Esther knew that infection was the primary concern, but Josiah was unconscious, and there had to be a reason for that.

  “You OK?” she asked Jim quietly as Veta tended to Josiah.

  “I feel fine. No big thing,” he said, his voice calm and steady.

  “But, what about . . .”

  “We’ll see.”

  Bryce pulled up the irrigation console, but Veta took it from him, then said, “See about the captain. Clean and rescan.”

  “Sir, can you step up here?” Bryce asked. He grabbed and held up the biohazard bag, and added a simply, “Sir?”

  Jim took off his shirt, dumped it in the bag, then bent to take off his jeans.

  “These are my only pair. I want them back if, you know. . .”

  “We’ll see. Underwear, too.”

  Jim dropped them, then hopped up onto the examining table. Esther could see a bloody gash on one leg, and more of an oozing road-rash on the other. Beyond that, he looked fine. But that wasn’t the concern.

  “I would’ve worked out first, if I knew I was going to be on display,” Jim said with a laugh.

  The fact that he was trying to joke was proof enough to Esther that Jim was scared. Hell, she was scared, so she couldn’t imagine what he felt like.

  Veta had the irrigation console, so Bryce used the field expedient method—a plastic squeeze bottle. He filled it, then squirted a stream on Jim’s legs, cleaning out the wounds. It didn’t take long. He asked Jim to lie back, then he pulled over the portable sprayers, coating Jim’s front.

  “Turn,” Bryce said.

  Jim gave Esther a lopsided smile, then turned to his stomach, and Bryce repeated the process on Jim’s back.

  “OK, Captain. Now for the scan.”

  Bryce turned, but Veta already had the multiscan and was affixing the transducer pads to various spots on Josiah’s body. She ran the register, handshaking each transducer to the brains of the scan.

  “I’ll start on your pads, Captain, if you don’t mind,” Bryce said quietly.

  Jim, though, was transfixed on what was happening to Josiah. As were Esther, the two civilians, and Penelope, who’d come in a few moments earlier.

  Veta crossed herself, then started the scan, her eyes locked on the display. Esther was holding her breath, anxious to see the results.

  He’s OK. It was just a beating, that’s all, she tried to convince herself.

  With a low ding, the display flickered as data streamed across it. Veta let out a deep breath, closed her eyes, and tilted her head back.

  Is that good or bad?

  When she opened her eyes, she looked at Esther, then slowly shook her head.

  “Bing, it’s positive. You need to get over here,” Esther heard her say into her throat mic.

  “Shit,” was all Esther could say.

  She reached over and took Jim’s hand. He didn’t say a word, but he almost crushed her fingers.

  Veta gave the multiscan a small push towards Bryce, who took it and wheeled it up to Jim’s table. He spent a few moments handshaking the transducer pads.”

  “You ready, Captain?” he asked Jim.

  “Hit it.”

  The transducers sent a variety of pulses throughout Jim’s body, searching for any traces of the virus. Fifteen long seconds later, the ding signaled the scan was over. Jim squeezed harder, and Esther could feel her knuckles grind together.

  He was only scraped. That isn’t enough to catch the virus.

  Bryce quickly scanned the readout, and his face broke out into a huge smile.

  “Clean, Captain! All clean!”

  Esther had been holding her breath, and when she heard the verdict, she almost collapsed in relief. She leaned forward to hug him, knocking off the pad on his left chest.

  “I’m so happy for you,” she whispered.

  “You’re happy? Not as much as I am,” he said as he finally let up on her hand.

  “When Josiah’s scan came back, I thought . . .”

  “I know.”

  “Captain, we’ve got scrubs in the closet. Just dump the transducers in the bin, and you can get something on. You can get another PPE at supply.”

  “What about my jeans?”

  “I’ll scan them, and if they’re contaminated, I’ll run them through the zip-clave.”

  “Do you want me to come with you?” Esther asked as Jim swung his legs over the edge of the table.

  “What, you don’t think I can dress myself? I think I’ll manage.”

  “I know you can,” she said before grabbing his upper arm and adding, “Thanks for out there. You saved my ass.”

  “All in a day’s work, madame,” he said with a mock half-bow. “Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

  A few moments after Jim disappeared into the ward, Bing strode in. He pulled up the readouts, then shook his head.

  “Bring him up,” he told Veta.

  She fiddled with the dispenser for a moment, and less than ten seconds later, Josiah’s eyes fluttered open.

  “Wha . . . ?” he mumbled through a smashed mouth.

  “Josiah, you’ve been beaten, pretty badly by the mob,” Veta told him, her voice even and almost expressionless.

  Josiah reached up to touch his face. Instead of recoiling, he expanded his touch while he explored the extent of the damage.

  “Did you run—”

  “Yes. You’re positive for Schleizen.”

  He didn’t seem to react except for a slight trembling of his lower lip.

  “The count?”

  “B220/plus.”

  Esther had no idea what that meant, but it had only been fifteen, maybe 20 minutes since the fight. Certainly, it couldn’t be that bad? She knew it took most of their patients 20-30 hours to become visibly sick. But the way the three doctors simply stared at each other was enough to convince Esther that things were bad.

  “Well, Josiah, it’s your call,” Bing said.

  “I . . . I think I need to keep working.”

  “It might be early enough,” Veta said.

  Josiah looked at Bing, who seemed to think it over.

  “I don’t know. Maybe with this count, and we don’t know what’s lodged in your brain.” He looked back to the multuscan, put in some numbers, then said, “A140/plus.”

  “I think that’s low enough. I think we need to put you under.”

  The doctors were speaking among themselves, but Esther understood the dilemma. Right after Krysandra Smith died, and it was obvious that they could not yet keep the infected alive, two of the patients whose disease was the most progressed were put into stasis. This was a common practice in pandemics like this where there wasn’t medication yet, or there was, but it hadn’t been fully distributed yet. Viruses reacted in strange, often unpredictable ways to stasis, but it was generally a valid course of action.

  The Schleizen Virus, however, had a defense mechanism that not only was unexpected, but it also had fatal consequences. To protect the body cells, stasis takes about ten minutes to be implemented on a normal-sized human being. It is not instantaneous. When the stasis field was applied to the two patients and the waves first hit the virus, it almost exploded into a crystalized suit of armor, as Bing described it after the autopsy, with shards pushing out at 90 times the diameter of the initial form. Acting as tiny grenades, the viruses destroyed the cell
s around it. While one virus doing this would have almost no effect on a body, when trillions did it, the body itself was destroyed. Regen could grow a ruined arm, spine, heart, even. But it could not regenerate a brain, at least one that still housed a living person.

  What the doctors were contemplating was whether Josiah’s brain had enough viruses in it to kill him as he entered stasis. Esther didn’t know how “A140/plus” compared to “B220/plus,” or any other reading, for that matter, but it didn’t seem possible that in only 20 minutes, enough were there to do any real damage. She agreed with Veta; Josiah should go into stasis.

  “How close are we?” Josiah asked Bing.

  “If this series is successful? Maybe 12, 15 hours.”

  “And you need me for that. No slight, but Moshe isn’t up to it. I am.”

  Bing shrugged and then said, “I won’t disagree with you. You would be an asset, but Moshe, he can contribute, too.”

  “No, I need to be there. You need me. The planet needs me. Hell, I need me, and I don’t want to put my life in Moshe’s hands.”

  You won’t be in Moshe’s hands if you’re in stasis, Esther thought. But then again, maybe thousands, tens of thousands of people here are.

  “Can you patch me up, Veta? I seem to have gotten kind of beat up.”

  Veta leaned forward, running a hand through the bloody mess of his hair. Through the doctor’s faceplate, Esther caught the tear that started to slide down her cheek.

  “I’ve got you covered. Give me 30 minutes, and everyone will still know you got your ass kicked, but you should be functional.”

  “Replication will be completed in . . . 43 minutes,” Bing said after checking his PA. “I’d like you back in the lab for the justification.”

  And just like that, he turned away and left.

  Veta gave Josiah a nano-boost, then started applying synthoflesh to close off the wounds. Esther watched for a few moments, but she knew she didn’t belong there. Outside, there had been a security incident, and that did fall under her bailiwick. She turned and left the building, heading to where the off-shift of the security team had arrived early and were being briefed by Michelle. Outside the gate, much of the crowd has dispersed, but at least 40 or 50 of them, all in various masks, were milling about.