Star Cruise - Outbreak

by Veronica Scott

  “You round up the stragglers here on the beach,” Jake told Red. “Clint and a few of our other officers are handling traffic now in the gravlift and the corridor. I’ll get the princess and her immediate party to the theater.”

  “Yes, sir.” Red saluted and took off at an angle to intercept the Tregallovan citizens who’d been at the beach with Falyn earlier and were now trudging across the sand toward them.

  Jake indicated for Falyn and her regent to precede him toward the exit. As the princess approached the portal, he scanned the small knot of her people lingering there. He focused on two younger men standing off to the side. Something about them made his well-honed instincts sit up and take notice, although he couldn’t put his finger on the reason. No sooner had he jogged to get ahead of Falyn than one man pulled an object from under his shirt and threw it at the princess, while the other started spraying blaster fire.

  “Bomb!” Jake thrust the regent aside and tackled Falyn, dropping her to the sand, completely covering her with his much bigger body. She was screaming, and the pet was snarling, snapping at him, when suddenly a blast of heat and pressure assaulted them. He was deafened, pelted by shrapnel and sand, stunned by the shock wave. He felt as if he’d been kicked in the spine. Forcing himself to move, he uncurled, pushing the princess behind him. Midorri exploded from the sand beneath him, launching itself at one of the men racing toward Jake and Falyn. Finding that his blaster remained clutched in his hand, Jake shot the oncoming terrorist at point-blank range, the world going black around him even as he pulled the trigger. If there was to be a second blast or more shooters, he was helpless to protect anyone, even himself, no matter how hard he fought the enveloping darkness and crippling pain.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Emily was just finishing the surgery on Lady Scorsshyn, a fairly simple procedure to enable her heart to function more smoothly and pump a higher volume of blood through her sadly blocked arteries, when Bevar entered the Zephyr’s small operating room, moving fast.

  “I’ll finish closing for you,” he said.

  “Aren’t you off duty? She glanced at the wall chrono. “We haven’t been in surgery more than an hour.”

  “There’s been an explosion, Doctor. You’re needed on the beach deck, stat.” Bevar swallowed hard. “It’s Jake. He’s wounded pretty bad from what Red’s reporting.”

  She felt as if her heart stopped, and she couldn’t breathe or move for a moment. Then she was out the door, shedding her operating gown and running through sickbay, pausing to grab the emergency medical kit Vicente thrust into her hands. He ran next to her, carrying more gear. “What do we know?” she said as she dove into the crew gravlift and arrowed down.

  “Princess Falyn was on the deck for some reason, and terrorists tried to blow her up. Jake got in the way, killed one bad guy, but was caught in the blast.”

  “Maeve, how is he?”

  “My primary ganglions are disabled on that deck,” the Ship said. “I believe Officer Thomsill mentioned Officer Dilon was hemorrhaging quite badly.”

  Emily took a deep breath and burst through the portal on Level 5. She steeled herself to ignore the other wounded and dying passengers inside the entrance and to focus on where Red crouched over a prone Jake a few yards ahead. Falling to her knees in the sand, she said, “What have we got?”

  “Piece of shrapnel from the second bomb lodged in his gut, I think.” Red was holding a compress made from his own wadded-up shirt tightly to a bloody wound on Jake’s stomach. “Bastards threw one bomb. Jake shot one. The other guy blew himself up when our security forces entered behind him from the corridor. Pretty lousy bomb builders, fortunately. Not much collateral damage, other than to the ship’s holo generators.”

  “Let me see the wound.” Emily took a fast glance as Red briefly shifted the compress away from Jake’s stomach and blood welled. “Internal bleeding.” She did a fast scan with her instruments before administering emergency stabilizing injects. “Only one wound, ugly but not too much damage to his organs, thank the Lords. I need to get him to the OR now.”

  “Ready to transport, Doctor,” Vicente said. “If we can get him onto the litter, we can go.”

  As the nurse and Red shifted Jake to the antigrav stretcher, Emily hovering close by, Jake groaned and opened his eyes for a moment. He reached out to her with one hand, and she clasped it tightly.

  “The kid?” he said.

  “She’s fine, not even a scratch,” Red assured him. “Already evacuated to safety.”

  “Worry about yourself, doctor’s orders,” Emily said as she hurried along next to the litter, moving toward the exit. “You’ve had a close call.”

  “You’re here.” Jake tried to smile. “I’ll be fine.” His eyes rolled back, and he lost consciousness.

  Emily glanced over her shoulder, taking in what was now only a huge, empty metal ship’s deck with sand and a deep tank of quiet water. Other casualties were being attended to by her beleaguered staff and some volunteers. Jake was clearly the most severely injured, and she had no qualms about departing the scene with him to begin the necessary treatments.

  When they got to sickbay, Bevar was setting up their tiny but fully equipped operating room to handle Jake’s needs. Emily went to the small prep room to change into fresh surgical gear. As she was washing her hands in the small sink, she realized her fingers were trembling. In disbelief, she spread her hands in front of her face. Because this is Jake, because I love him. “I can’t flash back to Fantalar now. He needs me at the top of my game,” she said out loud, leaning against the wall, hands clenched against the tremors. “Like I was the first time we met, on that damn beach.”

  “Ready for surgery, Doctor.” Vicente’s voice came through the comlink. “Patient is fully prepped.”

  Emily took three deep breaths, trying to center herself. There’s no one else on board who can do this. I have to get myself under control.

  The com sounded again. “Dr. Shane?”

  Closing her eyes, she gritted out an answer. “I’ll be right in.” At least her voice was calm.

  “Jake trusts you,” Maeve said unexpectedly, her voice soft. “You saved him once. You can do it again. You’ve treated hundreds of blast wounds. Once you pick up the pulse scalpel, the muscle memory will take over, and he’ll be like any other soldier you’ve ever helped. No time for hesitation or doubt. Just do what the wound requires.”

  “I never thought I’d need a pep talk from you,” Emily said, moving to rewash her hands. Maeve’s words were what she’d needed to hear, what a medical colleague might have said to her, in combat or elsewhere.

  “You know I’m right. Focus on the injury for the next hour, not the man, and you’ll be fine. You’re the best trauma surgeon the Sectors has ever seen, and that’s what Jake needs. I’m grateful you’re here.” Unbidden, Maeve opened the door to the operating room.

  Emily stepped across the threshold, strode to the operating table and held out her hand for the tools she needed.

  A long time later, she sat next to Jake’s bed in the intensive care unit, holding his hand while he remained unconscious. She was exhausted, still wearing her scrubs, but the surgery had gone well, no complications. There was a theory in military medical circles that soldiers who’d been through the rejuve regenerator process healed faster, and she thought that it was going to be true for Jake, based on how his body was reacting to the injury and the surgery. She remembered he said he’d been treated the maximum three times in the machine during his years of service, so if the legend was true, he had an advantage.

  He muttered under his breath and stirred in the bed. She did a quick check of his vitals on the monitors and was pleased by the results. Leaning over, she kissed his cheek. “I hope you weren’t out of body and watching me do surgery this time. You just concentrate on doing your part and getting well, okay?”

  She leaned her head on the back of the chair and closed her eyes. After those few moments in the prep room, there’d been no mo
re flashbacks to the horrors of Fantalar. Maeve had been right—once she began the surgery, the procedures she’d needed to perform followed predetermined steps with no problems, and her hands were rock steady as she’d repaired the damage to his organs.

  There was a knock on the doorframe. “Doctor?”

  “Yes?” She was so tired she didn’t even open her eyes to glare at Vicente for disturbing her.

  “Security is on the com. They need you right away.”

  “Now what?” Reluctantly, Emily released Jake’s hand and rose from the chair, stretching, as if that was going to banish the tiredness in every inch of her body. She walked past the nurse and went into her office to answer the call. “Dr. Shane.”

  It was Red. “I’m sorry to bother you, Doc, but we’ve got a new patient, another Socialite, but he swears he never set foot on the beach. I’m holding him in his cabin. I figured you’d want to see him?”

  A shiver worked its way down her spine, and she was suddenly wide awake. “Good call. Tell me which cabin, and I’ll be there in five minutes. You’re taking full biohazard precautions, right?”

  “Yes, ma’am. I’ve got zero desire to risk being exposed to any new versions of the bug.” He hesitated for an instant before lowering his voice and asking, “How’s Jake doing?”

  “Pulled through surgery just fine. Resting comfortably. I’ll have to keep a close eye on him for the next twenty-four hours, but I’m optimistic.” And didn’t it feel good to deliver that report?

  “Thank the Lords of Space. He’s a lucky guy you were here today. We’re in Cabin 10 on Level 1.” Red signed off, and she went to change out of her scrubs and get into her own biohazard gear.

  When she arrived at the suite, the scene was pretty much as usual—the passenger pale and exhausted, lying on the couch. What got her attention immediately was that he had a nosebleed. Were stage one and stage two merging into one set of symptoms now?

  “Tell the doc what you told me,” Red said, pointing at the ‘Lite as soon as she came in. “Start with your name.”

  “Mik, Mik Pardar. I’ve never been to the damn beach deck, okay?” The passenger dabbed at his nose with a handkerchief. “Like I told your security goon here, I started feeling sick to my stomach about a day and a half ago, got a nasty case of diarrhea on top of that, and then this morning my nose started bleeding and won’t stop. I got scared, with all that stuff going on down on Level C and all, so I called sickbay. Next thing I know, I’m being treated like a criminal instead of being helped. Are you going to help me, Doctor? My father—”

  “I’m sure he’ll sue the line for every credit we’ve got.” She held up her hand. “Spare me. Do you know Rupair?”

  “Yeah. We travel in the same circles sometimes.” The man seemed wary.

  Emily cut straight to the chase. “Did you have unprotected sex with him?”

  Mik guffawed. “Does he swing that way? I’d never have guessed. No, you’re way out of orbit, Doctor. We did feelgoods together. Shared the high.”

  “How did you share?”

  Mimicking the process of injecting himself in the arm, Mik raised an eyebrow. “Mainline works best, Doc. You oughta know that.”

  “And you used the same inject?”

  “Hell yeah. It’s better that way.” Mik grabbed his gut and moaned. “Please, Doctor, no more questions. I’m dying here.”

  You might be. Emily got out the Galamialate. “Before I give you this, anyone else involved in this feelgood party of yours? Or do you know of anyone else on board who buys feelgoods from Rupair?”

  “Think carefully before you answer,” Red said.

  “He sells to everyone in our crowd.” Mik sniffed as the flow of blood from his nose increased. He wiped at his face and stared wide-eyed at the red smearing his hand. “I’ll give you names. Just please make this stop.”

  “Names first.” Red was insistent, and the glance he shot at Emily stopped her instinctive protest about further delaying treatment.

  A few minutes later, Red seemed satisfied Mik had told them everything he knew, so Emily administered the standard dose of the intestinal medicine, adding a coagulant. “You should feel better soon, but we’ll be taking you to quarantine on Level C for a more extensive treatment.” The way he was bleeding, she was concerned whether the spice-based drug would help him much. “Get him into a suit and get him to Level C, stat,” she said. “This patient is high priority.”

  “Aren’t you coming, Doc?”

  “I’m going back to sickbay to check on Jake first, and then I’ll be on my way,” she said. Her stress level rose as she considered the clash between her first priority—the man she loved—and the necessity of managing the outbreak until she could officially declare the emergency over. Please let the zalmadrir be our miracle cure. And no more new patients!

  A week later…

  Jake woke from his latest nap to find himself in his own bed, free of the hated intravenous hookups and noisy medical monitors. Shaking his head a little to reorient himself, he stretched gingerly, shoving aside the riotously colorful blanket lying heavily across his legs. The freedom to move without gadgets and probes pulling and tugging on him was exhilarating.

  Emily emerged from his kitchenette, carrying a tray.

  “That better have some steak on it,” he said. “I’m sick of mush and soup.”

  “You’re not ready for steak yet, tough guy. Cool your jets.” She placed the dishes on a table next to the bed and sat on the edge of the mattress. “How do you feel?”

  “Like not making any sudden moves, even with a gorgeous woman right next to me in bed.” He grinned. “But less woozy.”

  “I’ve reduced the pain meds, now that you’re healing so well. And as you can see, you’re doing well enough to return to your own quarters.” She leaned over to kiss his cheek. “You had me worried for a day or two there.”

  “Too tough to die from a lousy gut wound.” His chuckle broke off abruptly as he realized it did hurt to laugh. Fingering the edge of the blanket, he said, “Is this the thing Mrs. Fenn was working on every time I saw her in a meeting on Level C?”

  “Yes. I hope you like it, because she’s given it to you. After it was put through decontamination, of course.”

  “It’s a bit colorful for my taste, but what can I say, right?” Jake traced the hot green strand as it crisscrossed the turquoise and the fuchsia and suddenly turned into purple, blinking as the riot of color made him dizzy. “Can’t hurt an old lady’s feelings.”

  “Apparently, you don’t remember, but she actually presented it to you in sickbay a few days ago. Right after Falyn gave you a medal.” Emily pointed at the elaborate gold medallion encrusted with gems, hanging from a ribbon on his bedframe. “She and her new entourage left the ship as soon as we got to Sector Hub. From what I’ve heard, the political situation has settled down. Her new regent seems to be a better diplomat and strategist than Scorrshyn. He reached out to her, by the way, once she recovered from her heart attack.”

  “Pretty bauble. Impressive.” He touched the bottom of the decoration, setting it swinging. “I guess I was kind of in and out after the explosion. Actually, I have a whole box full of these things from my service days. I’d tell you what the medals were for, but it’s all classified. I’m glad Falyn was okay.” Closing his eyes, he leaned back on the pillows for a few moments, until his attention was captured by a scraping noise. “Tell me you are not cutting my food up for me.”

  Emily gave him an innocent smile when he opened his eyes. She set the bed tray over his lap. “What a wonderful plate of treats, all bite-size, mushy and ready to eat. Chef Stephanie cooked this dish especially for you, by the way.”

  “I can feed myself,” he said, grabbing the fork before she could.

  “Just don’t go too fast. Pace yourself. It’s probably too much food, but she was so happy to have the chance to help.” She picked up a mug of coffee and moved to the chair. “Want a status update?”

  “What I want pr
obably isn’t on the menu,” he said with an attempt at a leer.

  “You won’t be cleared for that activity for quite a while, Officer Dilon, and it’ll have to be performed under close medical supervision.” She winked. “But if you make a good attempt at lunch today, I’ll come over there and cuddle a bit. As ship’s physician, I couldn’t share the bed in sickbay.”

  “Deal.”

  Her face crumpled a little. “I missed you, Jake. The thought of losing you—”

  “Hey now, it’s fine. I’m going to be all right.” He shifted the tray in an attempt to reach out and comfort her. “Come here, sweetheart. I need you in my arms more than I need food right now, and you need the reassurance too, I think.”

  She took the tray away and then lay down gingerly, so as not to bump into his wounds. Resting her head on his shoulder, she sighed. “Some tough doctor I am, forcing the patient to make me feel better.”

  “Hey, I love you. I’ll always be here to do whatever’s required to make you happy.” He tipped her face to his and kissed her with tenderness.

  When they drew apart, she searched his face, her focus intense and unwavering. “You—you mean that?”

  “That I love you? Hell yes. I’m sorry if it’s too soon to say it according to whatever schedule you think we should follow, but after the last close call, I’m not waiting, Doc. I’m not trying to rush you, but I’m not forcing myself to keep my emotions bottled up either.”

  She settled against him with a contented wriggle, getting closer. “I love you too, Jake Dilon. I’m so glad you talked me into signing on for this crazy cruise to disaster.”

  “Good.” He had an unsettling thought. “You are going to stay, aren’t you? I mean, I could probably get a job on Harilon eventually, if you hate the cruise life, but I have a contract with CLC I’d have to work out—”

  “I love you even more for being willing to compromise, but there’s no need. I met with Captain Fleming yesterday, in fact, and signed my own contract to be the Zephyr’s chief medical officer for as long as you and I want to stay aboard her.” Emily stretched like a satisfied cat. “I never would have guessed it, but shipboard life suits me.”