“And if it goes airborne and gets away from us? If it becomes capable of infecting people directly, no need for exposure to spores and water?”
Emily swallowed hard. She had no doubts on the single course of action should that happen. “I’ll be telling Captain Fleming my professional opinion is to orbit us into the heart of a star and keep this outbreak away from the rest of the Sectors.”
The mood the next morning at the staff meeting was grim, no teasing or jokes today.
“So the death rate appears to be increasing,” Emily concluded, “as patients’ immune systems and other bodily functions wear down. The Enzells are both still hanging on, which does give me hope to some extent, but we lost seventeen overnight.”
“I have an announcement of my own,” Red said, waving his personal AI. “Downloaded the information two seconds ago.”
“I’m all ears and sensors,” Emily said.
“Since it appears Mr. Groskin is a person of interest to us again, I dug deeper into his travel authorizations, where he listed his occupation as free trader. It so happens I now know he was shipping a small crate on board this very ship under a DBA false front. Took a while to cross-reference the cargo to him.”
She didn’t care how many fake identities or shell companies Groskin had. The mention of the cargo caught her attention. “How small?”
“Size is a relative term, according to Chief Cargo Master Embersson. Apparently, we take on all kinds of odd-shaped modules for individuals, versus the massive, standard shipping containers the big lines like Loxton Galactic use.” Red scanned the incoming data. “Embersson says it’s a six-by-six cube. I’m hoping there’ll be something inside to give us a clue what planet Groskin might have come from most recently. He was a slippery customer all right.”
“Be careful,” Emily said. “You might need to use hazmat gear. Who knows what other surprises the late Mr. Groskin might have carried?”
“I have to be there with you.” Sid jumped from his chair, motioning to the trid operator. “This could be a pivotal moment in the entire outbreak.”
“Captain Fleming said you could come along as long as the cargo master is cool with it. Don’t irritate Embersson—the deck is his, and he will throw you off.” Jake leaned over to give Emily a kiss on the cheek. “You okay?”
She nodded. “I’m fine. Let me know what you find.” Attention on Meg once more, she resumed going over the plans to expand the quarantine ward, moving the more seriously ill patients into an elaborate ICU the Ship had created as conditions worsened by the day.
Jake knew Emily was dreading the moment when the death rate climbed, or new stage-two cases appeared, or both. “I hope this son of a bitch had the cure in his damn cargo,” he said to Red as the two security officers descended side by side in the gravlift.
“Yeah, the doc isn’t going to handle it well if she can’t save anyone in this battle. Meg told me that we lost three kids in the group who died overnight.” Red swallowed hard. “I know it’s selfish, but I’m damn glad she’s immune to basic Groskins, with that blood type of hers. She was in and out of the fucking water on Level 5 for two days while she was watching over the Enzell siblings. Of course now that we know the bug has mutated in those two poor ‘Lites, all bets are off. ”
“I hear you. I hope the injects the military shot us full of over the years keep saving our asses, you know? Even with the mutations starting to show up. Let the organism go airborne though, and we’re all dust. Fleming would have to pilot us into a sun.”
“I want to kill Groskin all over again. Bastard snuck in somewhere he wasn’t supposed to go, obviously, didn’t take the right precautions, and a lot of people are paying the price.” Red shook his head. “Kids dying is hard to take. Meg couldn’t sleep. Doc had to give her something because she was so broken up about the deaths. Meg never signed up for this.”
“None of us did, but we do what we gotta do.” Jake glanced at Sid and raised his voice. “We’re coming to the cargo decks now. Brace yourselves and try to make a clean landing. And remember what I said about staying out of the way. Embersson’s the boss on these levels.”
The entry onto the primary cargo deck opened into a cavernous space and provided an unobstructed view of the cargo deck, which was crammed full of containers of all sizes and shapes. The ship’s cat trotted into view from behind a pallet of crates and twined herself around Jake’s ankles, meowing. He bent to pet her fur, sneaking a cat treat out of one pocket. “Don’t tell the boss,” he said as he placed the pellet on the deck while the cat purred.
“Incoming,” Red warned.
“Are you feeding the cat again, Dilon? Spoiling her rotten.” Cargo Master Embersson was built on the massive scale—wide shoulders, big chest, huge thighs—but moved like a cat himself. Quiet and deadly. Except for his voice, which boomed and echoed in the crowded cargo hold.
Jake often thought Embersson probably tossed the cargo where it needed to be stowed all by himself, no need for the fancy equipment lesser mortals needed. “She likes me.”
“She gets too fat to chase the vermin down here and I’ll send her to live in your cabin. Let her tear up your uniforms,” Embersson threatened, even as he picked the cat up to pet her, scratching behind her ears. “Moby works for a living, unlike some people I know.” Absentmindedly carrying the cat, he led them deeper into the hold. “Got your little package over here in a decontamination unit, per the message you sent this morning. Container seems okay. No sign of damage. Pain in the butt unstacking and restacking the shit in front of it. I hate these damn prima donna free traders.”
“Did Groskin give you grief about his cargo?” Jake asked.
“Nah, free traders in general get under my skin.” Embersson set the cat down on a stack of crates bearing the Loxton Galactic imprint, and she began to bathe her shimmering white fur, ignoring all of them. He jerked his thumb at a decidedly less impressive shipping container sitting in solitary splendor inside an isolation tent. “There it is. You gonna wear suits to open it?”
“Dr. Shane wants us to.”
“Yeah, after the monster Mrs. Fenn showed us at staff the other morning, I’m on board with the program,” Red said. “Thing was freaky.”
Embersson rubbed his neck. “How big?”
“Too small for Moby to chase.” Jake laughed. “Microscopic.”
“We ran a scan.” Embersson waved a hand at the small knot of cargo workers standing nearby. “Nothing. All indications are we have a normal crate.”
“What does the bill of lading say?” Jake asked.
“Sundries and miscellaneous small trade goods.” Embersson shrugged. “Guy at his two-bit level doesn’t have to be more specific. If he was smuggling contraband, he probably hid it pretty well. Sector Hub Security only does a random check anyway, unless the authorities get a tip. Too much cargo volume coming and going to scan each piece. My guys’ll help you into the suits.”
“I’ll do it by myself,” Red volunteered. “I don’t think the job requires two of us to suit up.”
“You sure?” Jake was startled.
“Can’t let you have all the glory.” Red grinned. “Besides, you’re the brains of the outfit, or so you tell me. We’ll hold you in reserve.”
After a few minutes, Red lumbered across the deck, the protective suit completely covering his face and body. He carried a scanner in one hand. “I’m ready. Maeve, open the chamber.”
Embersson drew Jake, Sid and the crew members behind a barrier, where a vidscreen had been set up. “In case anything blows.”
“Won’t the hull rupture?” Sid asked, glancing at the bulkheads and deck nervously.
“Not if it’s a small charge. The portable chamber may not appear impressive, but it will contain quite an explosion. Wouldn’t be so healthy for Red.” The cargo master’s casual tone belied the concern on his face.
“Red’s trained in defusing booby traps,” Jake said, not shifting his focus from the events on the screen. “He’s throug
h the air lock, entering the holding chamber now.”
Red studied the crate from all sides for a few moments, running the scanner a few inches away from the surface. He turned to face them, and the comlink crackled into a live feed. “Nothing. Seems to be an ordinary module. I’m going to open it now.”
“How will he unlock it?” Sid whispered.
“There’s an override code,” Jake said.
There was a click clearly audible over the comlink, and Red stepped back as the module unfolded in an intricate arrangement, displaying a number of smaller, sealed containers. “I’m going to start with the largest, here on the left.” Maneuvering awkwardly in his suit, Red shifted the first three boxes to the side and opened one after the other. As the third lid opened, a small brownish creature leaped from the interior and scuttled to the corner of the containment area, baring impressive fangs at Red and hissing. He blasted it.
Weapon in hand, Jake was at the door of the air lock. “You okay?”
“Yeah, once my heart rate settles.” Red bent over the charred corpse and toed it with his boot. “Common spacelanes freighter rat. Must have gotten in when the crate was open in a warehouse somewhere.” Red moved to the module. “Don’t tell Moby I cheated her out of prey.”
“You got it.” Jake remained next to the module, staring at the brightly lit interior as Red labored to unpack more cargo. “What are you finding? Any clues?”
“Some cheap statues I’m guessing are hiding illicit feelgoods.” Red held up a simple green and white figurine of an indeterminate equine creature. “Some halfway decent jewelry tossed into a box. Makes me think he’d taken up fencing stolen goods. Third crate was leather goods, nice imprint, same as one of the boutique shops we have up on Level A—”
“Probably fake. Groskin sure was operating at the low end.”
“Wait a minute, might have something here.” Red unpacked several boxes in succession. He ran the scanner over the merchandise and read the results. He took out what appeared to be a glass vial, scanned it again and came to the wall. “We’re going to need Meg down here right away.”
“Meg?” Jake was baffled. Maybe he’d heard wrong?
“The interior boxes are full of spices, carefully packed in neat little containers. The scanner reads them as high-end, pure grade, from various planets. But there’s an entire section where the scanner can’t or won’t match the molecules to anything.” He held the readout up to the clear panel for Jake to see. “Spice Guild Restricted. Maybe the spice is from the same planet as the deadly beastie.”
“Spices?” Jake rubbed his chin. “Why would a low-level criminal be moving spices?”
“Hell, some of that stuff is better than liquid gold or magtenatrite ore,” Embersson said, coming to stand next to him. “I’ve shipped Inner Sector spices for Loxton that were triple insured, auctioned right off the cargo bay deck to avid onboard buyers. People—especially rich ones—like their fancy foods, and exotic ingredients cost significant credits. And some spices are considered to be medicinal on certain worlds.”
“The Red Lady of D’nvannae has the market cornered on some of the most rare spices,” Sid added. “Or so I was told when we were considering doing a trid series about her corps of assassins. Uses them in her rituals, I guess.” He ran his hand across his hair and gave a dramatic shiver. “Couldn’t get the rights. Had to buy an expensive lifetime-protection contract to get her to retract the kill order she put out on me for even asking questions. All grist for the publicity mill. Cost of doing business.”
“Groskin was kind of a foodie, right? Didn’t Emily say he paid to attend a special tasting dinner with Chef Stephanie?” Red said. “I remember the meal being noted in the file. I wonder if he gave her any spice samples.”
“How can Meg help us?” Focusing on Red, Jake cut through the chatter.
“Hey, I’m gonna unsuit here. The scanner finds no trace of Groskin’s or anything else deadly to humans. The only unknown is the powder that’s apparently a secret spice.” Red grinned and began peeling off the safety suit before Jake could object or urge caution. “Meg’s family are spice farmers in Sector Forty. Her dad’s a master in the Spice Guild, trained in the Inner Sectors for twenty years before returning home to take over the family business. Spice plants can be tricky to grow, I’ve since learned. She might be able to tell us if any of this stuff is rare, or connected in any way to somewhere secret Groskin might have been before he boarded the Zephyr. Remember how well he covered his tracks? A man with something to hide.”
Jake didn’t need to hear any more. “Maeve, can you get Meg down here right away?”
“She’s on her way,” the Ship reported.
Embersson spun on his heel, pointing a finger at his crew. “All right, show’s over, no more excitement, nothing going boom. I’m sure you guys have work to do. I can find some decks to swab by hand if you don’t.”
Meg entered the cargo deck a few moments later, stepping smoothly out of the gravlift. She stopped for a moment as she saw the decontamination chamber with Red inside but unsuited. “Everything all right?”
“He’s fine. No hazards identified,” Jake assured her. “Our Patient Zero was shipping spices, and Red thinks you might be able to help.”
“I’ll be happy to do my best. It’s the family business, but I prefer a career with a little more adventure. I think I’ve been overdoing the excitement on my last few cruises though.” Meg stepped to the air lock and entered, Jake on her heels.
“It’ll be too crowded—you stay outside,” he told Sid, barring the door with his arm. “You can film through the clear walls.”
After kissing Red on the cheek, Meg sat cross-legged on the deck and studied the various containers he’d opened. She touched several with the tip of her index finger, reciting names as she went. “Terran cinnamon, alutonmeric, sesquel, pardom—Groskin had quite a collection here. Some of these are extremely valuable.” She examined the others in silence, nodding a bit. Then she scooted closer to the last box, which held vials of a sparkling black powder that reminded Jake of nothing so much as common pepper, except for the glitter. “Oh yeah, I’ve seen this. Once.” Meg took one of the vials in her hand, unscrewed the top, handing it off to Red, and dipped the tip of her little finger into the contents, acquiring a light dusting of the ebony powder on her skin. She moved her fingertip carefully under her nose for a moment, inhaling as she furrowed her brow. Meg sat back and touched her tongue to the powder on her finger. She closed her eyes, and every inch of her body tensed, while she permitted a small moan to escape her lips.
“What is it? What’s the matter?” Red gathered her close. “Are you all right?”
A faint blush rose on her cheeks. Meg opened her brown eyes and smiled. “Better than all right.” She pointed at the cask. “This is zalmadrir, known in the business as the empress of spices. The most expensive and rare spice in the Sectors.”
“I never heard of it,” Jake said.
“You wouldn’t have . It’s a very closely held secret of the Spice Guild. I’ve encountered it only once before in my life, but the taste and the physical sensation are unmistakable. Like a really intense orgasm.” She blushed harder. Clearing her throat and smoothing her tunic a bit, she said, “Groskin was a foolhardy man.”
“We don’t have time for Spice Guild mysteries,” Jake said. “What is this stuff?”
“Practically a myth. Despite the fact we’re looking at an entire cask of it, the empress spice is extremely rare. No one knows where it grows, what planet it’s from, not even what Sector.”
Jake wasn’t buying that story. “Groskin knew somehow. The Spice Guild obviously knows.” He liked Meg but if she’d been withholding relevant information during this crisis, he’d be furious. He’d have no choice but to advise the captain to take serious disciplinary action, so he hoped whatever she was going to tell them put her in the clear.
“Groskin may have taken the secret to his grave.” Meg shook her head. “My father said the
Presiding Master of the Spice Guild is supposed to be the only person who knows where zalmadrir can be obtained.”
“But you’ve tasted it before,” Jake pointed out, still wary about what she knew.
Meg gave Sid’s trid recorder a pointed glance and shook her head. “Some things I can’t discuss.”
“We don’t need to know how Meg got her information,” Red said. “I’ll stipulate her expertise. Her dad was really high-ranking in the guild before he moved to the Rim to grow spices.”
Sid pointed at his ear and shook his head. The com crackled. “We’re not getting your audio feed through the walls.”
Evidently reassured, Meg unbent and offered more explanation. “My dad lost a political fight, trying to become head of the guild,” Meg explained. “He couldn’t stay after that because the winner was going to take serious retribution on those who opposed him. He had backing from the Red Lady and you don’t mess with her or her interests. My dad can be pretty devious himself, pretty scorched earth when he wants something. Anyway, he stole a tiny cache of zalmadrir in revenge, which I’ll deny if you ever repeat it. I was curious, snuck into the vault in our processing facility, and tasted it once before he caught me.”
Making a circular, keep-moving gesture, Jake was impatient. “What else can you tell us about the spice? How does this relate to Groskin?”
“Zalmadrir is an erotic drug on some worlds, a miracle cure on others. It’s literally worth its weight in gold, as the old saying goes. According to the Spice Guild legends, only a few people on the entire planet where it originates, all members of one small tribe, can safely gather the pods. Anyone else who tries to harvest the pods to make zalmadrir dies. The actual method for the grinding and the trace elements added to enhance the potency are also closely guarded secrets. Preparation and consumption of the spice are part of a religious ritual for the tribe. Outsiders who wander into the area are punished by the gods with a horrible death. The pods grow in one shallow lagoon, protected by massive reefs and other safeguards.” She raised one eyebrow and shrugged. “Or so the guild lore goes.”
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