Star Cruise - Outbreak

by Veronica Scott

  Which raised the question—did she want to use her medical skills? Or step away from all of it? “And become what?” she said out loud, laughing ruefully. “Little late in life to start over.” All her years of expensive medical training would go to waste.

  As Emily rose from the tub, water sheeting in all directions, she pondered the issue. Even the ER hadn’t been busy enough for her most shifts, not enough stress and pressure. But the bad nights in the ER were too much like her worst times in the military. Those nights triggered her most debilitating flashbacks, after which—the pattern was clear now—she’d go and drink. And as her father had so astutely pointed out, none of the patients were really hers. Just the way she liked it, or so she’d thought, based on what she was used to. In the military, she’d basically done triage or emergency surgery and moved on. She never met her patients again, not unless the soldiers were unlucky or stupid. Stupid didn’t live long in the war between the humans and the Mawreg.

  But other than the norovirus, which had provided momentary overwork, this cruise had been uneventful. As she toweled her hair dry, she tried to guess how soon she’d get bored. She stopped toweling for a moment, considering the experience so far. Reaching for her hair brush, she admitted to herself clearly there were opportunities to expand her knowledge in other specialties, such as obstetrics and pediatrics, at least enough to be able to treat patients until they could be shuttled to a planetary facility. Maybe less stress, more contact with the patients and a reason to learn new things weren’t such a bad combination.

  She was ready with minutes to spare. Jake was prompt. He whistled. “Gorgeous, Doc.”

  Laughing, she pirouetted so the short tunic would flare out over the matching tights. “Meg showed up as I was going off duty, and once she heard we were going dancing tonight, she forced me to admit I had nothing to wear for the occasion. So she dragged me to the shops. She said I couldn’t wear white and I couldn’t wear black.” Gesturing at herself, she said, “So I ended up with blue florals. I’m not going to earn any salary on this damn cruise. It’s all going towards buying clothes I’ll have no use for later.”

  “The flowers are the same color as your eyes,” he said. “Beautiful.” Offering an arm, he added, “The wardroom awaits.”

  Jake steered them to a grand entrance into the small officers’ dining room, stepping through the portal, clearing his throat, waiting for the full attention if those gathered at the table before introducing her with a flourish. “I give you our new ship’s doctor, Emily Shane.”

  Not relishing her place as center of attention, Emily felt her cheeks growing red. “It’s a pleasure to be aboard,” she said, glancing from face to face. “I’m sorry I wasn’t able to meet you earlier in the cruise, but I was swamped by the norovirus cases.”

  The man seated at the center of the table hoisted his coffee mug. “Welcome to the Zephyr. I’m Chief Engineer Takkei.”

  The others introduced themselves in rapid-fire succession. Emily tried to match faces to names, secretly relieved to know most of the time the officers would be wearing badges, unless off duty. Retention of the names of people she’d met in situations like these wasn’t her strong point. Some form of social anxiety maybe. “Please, go on with your meal. Jake and I can squeeze in at the end. No need to disrupt the whole table on my account.” She was resolved to corner Takkei before the meal ended and thank him privately for the incredible gift of time in the garden.

  The waiter was already bringing their salad and appetizers.

  “Chef Stephanie sends up a special meal for the wardroom nightly,” Jake said as he held her chair for her. “Usually the best of whatever she was serving in first class. But if there’s something you prefer, it can be ordered.”

  Emily took a rapid glance at the main-course plates dotting the table. “Seafood hits the spot for me tonight.” She turned to the waiter. “I’ll have a glass of white pearl wine with my meal.”

  One eyebrow raised, Jake gave her a quick look before he said, “Beer for me.”

  The waiter nodded, leaving to fetch the drinks.

  “How do you like our ship so far, Doctor?” asked the engineer.

  “Maeve certainly is on top of everything,” Emily answered, trying to be polite and going for understatement. “And the ship itself is beautifully designed.”

  “Nothing like the military destroyers I served on, that’s for sure.” The Third Officer helped herself to more bread. “All the comforts of home here.”

  “And a few of the luxuries we didn’t have on my planet,” added the man next to her.

  The conversation soon reverted to the topic of an inter-Sectors sports final the others had apparently been discussing with fervor, and Emily and Jake were left to themselves. He leaned over. “See? Not so intimidating after all.”

  “I hope I can get a word alone with Takkei. I want to thank him for letting me share the garden. I was thinking I’d have to make a trip to the engine room before I disembark.” She dipped a piece of shellfish into the creamy sauce. “Now that we’re nearly in the clear on the virus, I’m trying to take the unasked-for advice people freely dispense and treat this cruise like a vacation.” Chewing slowly to savor the incredible burst of taste, she washed the bite down with a small sip of wine. “I didn’t dare take a break after I mustered out. Traveled straight to my home planet and signed up for as many ER shifts as the admins would give me between the three hospitals. Downtime was a nightmare waiting to happen.”

  He reached over and squeezed her hand. “I know. Been there.”

  “The garden helps, although I’m not sure how much progress I’ve made since coming on board,” she said, giving him a glance.

  “I’m not asking.”

  “I know, and I appreciate your restraint. But I thought you’d like a little update.” And it helps to talk to you about it; you understand.

  “If you want to tell me.”

  “No more nightmares anyway. And I’m willing to try the casino tonight, for a little while.” As soon as she made the offer, nerves in her gut lurched, an ominous tinge of anxiety lurking. Emily remembered the crowds and the noise. “Maybe.”

  “No need to push it. We can go to the beach instead, or even call it a night early,” he offered. “We have about six weeks of cruise time left, plus the return trip, if you stay aboard. I’m not trying to rush you. Although I have been thinking all day about dancing with you.”

  “You don’t strike me as a patient guy.” She studied him over the lip of her wine glass before taking another sip.

  “The instructors had to beat it into me during Special Forces training. Sometimes the only way to achieve the objective is to apply patience.” He gave her a meaningful glance.

  The idea of being Jake Dilon’s objective was quite pleasing, Emily had to admit. “We have mutual objectives,” she murmured.

  A gleam in his eyes, he sat back and offered his beer for a toast. “To patience.”

  They clinked glasses as her ever-present personal AI buzzed. Flustered, she set her wine next to her plate and fumbled in her small bag for the device. “Sorry, I must have neglected to set the status to off duty.” When she had the AI in her hand, it was flashing an emergency override code with the sickbay call sign. “I need to take this.”

  “Problem?”

  She showed him the call sign. “I’ll be a minute.” Rising, she made her way to the other side of the wardroom, seeking a bit of privacy. Keeping the volume low and the visual off, she said, “Dr. Shane here.”

  “We need you right away.” The voice of her PA, Bevar, was tense, his words rushed. “Arln coded.”

  “Have you revived him?” The question came to her lips automatically.

  “Yes, but I don’t think we’re going to be able to stabilize.” Bevar lowered his voice. “He’s bleeding from the eyes, ears and nose. Internally too. Whatever’s killing him isn’t norovirus.”

  “I’ll be right there. Institute isolation procedures. Detain anyone else who�
�s there right now. Shane out.”

  Jake was at her side, shielding her from the others in the room. “Clearly not something minor. Can I help?”

  “I have to get to sickbay.” Conscious of their audience, Emily raised her voice. “A doctor’s never off duty. Small crisis, nothing to worry about.” She made herself smile and wave. “Sorry for rushing off. I hope to stay longer next time.”

  Then Jake had her out the door, hastening down the corridor toward the crew-only gravlift. “Small crisis?”

  She hesitated.

  “I understand about patient confidentiality, but as chief security officer of this ship, I have a need to know, Doc.”

  “The bodyguard—Arln—he coded. My staff revived him, but Bevar says there are new symptoms.”

  The gravlift carried them rapidly up the levels. “What kind of new symptoms?”

  She put her lips next to his ear. “Bleeding from various orifices.”

  He bit off an oath. Catching a curious glance from a crew member descending on the other side of the gravlift, he spoke softly. “Can a virus cause those symptoms?”

  “Not anything as simple as a norovirus, no. We might be dealing with something else in his case. Or,” she said, barely touching the landing platform before striding through the corridor, “we might be lucky and this is specific to him.” She gave him a sidelong glance. “Arln did have some unusual physical challenges not apparent to the naked eye.”

  The reception area of the sickbay was empty. Emily ran through, on her way to the patient treatment area, registering in passing that Jake halted to call for reinforcements. Good idea. Whatever was going on, she didn’t need passengers or crew wandering in until the situation was under control.

  The situation was dangerously out of control, she realized at a glance. Arln was convulsing in the bed, blood pouring from his mouth, nose and eyes. Medical alarms were beeping and buzzing. Bevar and the nurse on duty were attempting to keep the patient’s breathing unobstructed. Their gowns and masks were blood-spattered. Emily grabbed a sterile gown for herself, fastened a mask across her face and yanked on gloves before she joined them at the bedside.

  “What have you administered?”

  Bevar named a coagulant and a level-one sedative. “I talked Maeve into dispensing it without your seal because he was seizing so badly.”

  Emily nodded. She scanned the monitors. Heart rate was way above the upper boundary. All other vital signs were sinking or erratic. Even as she watched, the patient simply collapsed like a leaking balloon, and all the readouts flatlined. She moved to the bedside, Bevar making room for her, and grabbed the proper probes. Pausing for a moment as she took in the big purple splotches spread across the man’s chest, which had not been there earlier, she blinked. No time to examine those now. Activating the tools, she attempted to resuscitate Arln yet again, with no success. The medical team worked for half an hour before she shook her head and allowed Bevar and the badly shaken nurse to stop. “We lost him. You both did the best you could for him. I’ll be sure to prominently note your outstanding efforts in my report.”

  “What do we do now?” Bevar’s voice shook. His hands were clenched on the side of the bed.

  Emily was cautiously examining the purple blotches on their late patient’s body. “Like Groskin,” she muttered. “What in the seven hells are we dealing with here?”

  “Doc?” Jake’s voice came from behind her.

  She discovered him in the doorway, mask held over his lower face. He was staring beyond her, to the bed. “Are those marks from you working on him?”

  She knew he was probably also remembering Groskin. To forestall any discussion until she’d had time to gather her thoughts, she said, “We need to talk. But first, we need to put the body in cryo, disinfect the room, and all three of us need to go through decontamination.”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  An hour later, she sat in her office with Jake. Vicente had been called in, and he and one of Jake’s security staff were in the reception area. Luckily, patient traffic had been light to nonexistent so far during this shift.

  “I gave the captain an interim report of another patient death,” Jake said. “Counting Groskin, that makes two fatalities this cruise. He wants details, and I stalled. Told him once you were out of decon we’d brief him. Give it to me straight, Doc. Were those purple spots on Arln the same thing Groskin had?”

  “I think the bruises might be, although I can’t imagine how the disease could have been transmitted from one man to the other. You told me Arln never met Groskin on board the ship.”

  “Right. We uncovered no contact at all. Their cabins aren’t even close, so there wouldn’t have been even incidental contact in the corridor. What do we do now?”

  “We’ll have to proceed on two fronts. Well, three.” She tried to put her mental to-do list in order. “First, we need to examine all the patients who had what we initially diagnosed as norovirus, and make sure no one else is sporting strange purple marks.” She paused, remembering the staff meeting earlier in the day and the odd symptom Bevar had mentioned. Arln had had a nosebleed earlier in the day as well. “There was a run of people presenting with mild nosebleeds in the clinic recently. We need to prioritize those people. Maeve, can you give me the list?”

  “Should we isolate them? Quarantine them?” Jake sat back in his chair. “That’ll be a mess to do without terrifying the other passengers. People didn’t like being confined to their cabins for the duration of the norovirus but they knew they weren’t likely to die. This could be very different.”

  “The cross-referenced list is on your personal AI now, Doctor, including any other recent information on the individuals since embarking with us.” Maeve was her usual efficient self. “I’ve monitored the entire ship, and no one else on board is exhibiting obvious symptoms similar to the late Arln at this time. I checked all cabins.”

  So much for privacy. “Thank you.” Emily scanned the roster. With a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach, she showed the readout to Jake. “Every single person who reported a nose bleed received Galamialate. No exceptions on the entire list.”

  “So maybe it’s a side effect of the drug?” Jake’s tone was hopeful. “Better than the plague.”

  “Don’t utter the word plague casually. Better yet, don’t say it at all. We aren’t in a plague situation.” She held up her hand. “Fact: Groskin had a nosebleed before he died. Second fact: He didn’t take Galamialate. He received another, milder medication in sickbay before the ship reached Harilon. Dr. Meers prescribed a totally different drug. So we can infer Groskin had gastrointestinal symptoms of some kind. But clearly he’s our Patient Zero for purple-splotch disease, and we need to know everything about him.” She gave Jake a half smile. “That’s our second item on the to-do list. It seems you were right—we need to do some detective work, try to trace his movements and previous travel before joining the Zephyr. I’ll have to find out if there’s been any illness of this nature reported on Harilon since we left orbit there eight days ago.”

  “We’d have to drop out of hyperdrive to send a message,” Jake said. “Highly unusual to interrupt a voyage.”

  Surprised she raised her eyebrows. “Military ships can send concentrated signals while in hyperdrive. I just assumed—”

  He was shaking his head. “The military won’t allow civilian vessels to have the equipment. Not after the Nebula Dream, which did possess an early version of the transmitters, was nearly captured by the enemy.”

  “I can probably wait on that then. But we need to know what Groskin did and who he interacted with on board the Zephyr.”

  “I can handle the on board investigation. But you said it was second on your list. What’s first?”

  “We need to know what we’re dealing with.” She glanced at the AI ganglion in the chamber. “Maeve, can you analyze the blood samples from Groskin and Arln, comparing them to all known hemorrhagic viruses?”

  “I’m not a medical AI,” the Ship said,
the first time Emily had ever heard her express anything less than total confidence. “I have an extensive reference database, but it’s not all-inclusive, Doctor. I’ve been checking for exotic infections and I appear to have a less than complete set of files to work with.”

  “Do the best you can.” Emily tried to put encouragement into her voice. “In the meantime, we need help. If this virus spreads, if everyone on board who had the preliminary gastrointestinal symptoms is going to develop what killed Arln, I can’t possibly handle the cases with only my staff. Even if only a small percentage of the initial patients enter the second stage of the disease, we’ll be overwhelmed. Captain Fleming needs to transmit a request for aid to the Sectors authorities. We need more doctors and nurses, and I need a trained epidemiologist to work on solving the open questions regarding the spread of the disease. I have to concentrate on patient care—I can’t do both jobs.”

  “I can scan the passenger list for any other medical personnel,” Maeve offered.

  “Please do. We may have to put out a call for anyone who’s even had first-aid training as a kid,” Emily said. “So far this purple-splotch disease has a one hundred percent mortality rate—Groskin and Arln. We don’t know how it spreads, and we don’t know how to fight it, other than to treat the symptoms. I’ll have to go down to the cryo deck and examine Groskin’s body more closely, under controlled conditions.” She ran her hands through her hair and stared at Jake. “You do realize there’s a strong possibility all the people on board may come down with this? Depending on how contagious it might be and whether it spreads person to person.”