Peacekeeper Pathogen (Galactic Alliance Book 6)

by Doug Farren

  “Loud and clear,” Flothir replied.

  Grunts, groans, and heavy breathing could be heard coming from the patient. Nathan opened his eyes as Flothir approached the bed and looked at him. “Hey doc,” me managed to say through clenched teeth. “Please tell me you can end this.” His voice was weak and the words came in chunks separated by grimaces of pain.

  Flothir glanced at the bank of instruments at the head of the bed noting all the details. Two bags of the most powerful pain medications known to exist for Terrans were slowly dripping into the line taped to Nathan’s arm. A much smaller bag containing a quick-acting poison was hanging next to them, ready to be administered. Nathan’s heart rate was very high and although his temperature was normal his entire body was covered in sweat. A brain monitor fitted to his head indicated high levels of activity in specific areas.

  “The answer depends on how you respond to a single question and one test,” Flothir told him. “Think about how you react when you injure yourself. If you jab yourself with a needle, you will automatically jerk away a moment before you actually feel any pain. Is this what you’re feeling now?”

  “Not really,” Nathan replied. “It’s everywhere. I feel the pain first and then I try to jerk away even though there’s nothing there.”

  The biomaster reached into a drawer and pulled out a syringe. Puling the cap off, he stuck the needle in Nathan’s hand between the thumb and forefinger. Nathan didn’t seem to notice. “Did you feel a sharp pain in your hand?” Flothir asked.

  “Nothing in addition to what I’m feeling now.”

  Flothir put a hand on Nathan’s shoulder. “I’m afraid there’s nothing I can do for you,” he said. “But there’s something you can do for me before I allow the hospital to carry out your request to end your life.”

  “As long as it- - -” Nathan’s mouth clamped down so hard that Tom could easily hear his teeth grinding together. A strange gurgling grunt could be heard as he fought to keep himself from screaming. When the episode passed, he opened his eyes that had been squeezed tightly closed. Tears ran down the side of his face as he said, “As long as it doesn’t take long. It feels as if I’m trapped in hell and my body is burning.”

  “I need to drill a small hole in your skull. Because of the high doses of pain medication you’re on, you won’t feel it. The pain you’re feeling is originating inside your brain. That’s why the medication has no effect.”

  “Drill away Doc.”

  Turning off the suit’s external speaker, Flothir turned and looked toward the observation window and said, “I’ve confirmed this is T11-N106. As you observed, the pain medication is working but since the pain is originating from within the patient’s brain he feels as if it’s coming from his entire body. Since the organism appears to initiate a form of autophagic cell death when the host body dies, we’ve never been able to observe it. We believe the pathogen settles into the brain targeting the limbic system. I hope to use the sub-millimeter endoscope to observe the pathogen as well as take a few samples for analysis.”

  Flothir took a pair of thin square panels off the cart and clipped them to the standard mounts on the hospital bed on either side of Nathan’s head. Turning his attention to Nathan, he said. “Please try to keep your head as still as possible.”

  “I’ll try, but this is getting really bad.”

  Picking up a cauterizing scalpel, Flothir made a small incision in Nathan’s scalp. Peeling back the flap of skin revealed the bone underneath. He then used the drill to put a small hole through the bone giving him access to Nathan’s brain. The details of his every action were picked up by one of the isolation suit’s multiple cameras and displayed on the monitor in the observation room.

  Setting a small device over the hole, Flothir secured it in place with three small bone screws. He inserted the tip of the sub-millimeter endoscope into the device then stepped back. Doctor Sing entered a command on her console and one of the four monitors switched to a different view. This one showed the location of the probe as it entered Nathan’s brain. A second monitor showed the view from the tip of the endoscope.

  “Moving the endoscope into the patient’s brain,” Biomaster Flothir said for the record as he manipulated the controls. “I’m targeting an area in the limbic system responsible for processing signals from the right leg.”

  The device attached to Nathan’s skull slowly pushed the endoscope deeper and deeper into his brain. The headband Flothir had donned earlier allowed him to see the precise location of the endoscope as well as a highly magnified view of what the tip was passing through. Several minutes passed as the probe moved closer to the target area.

  “Tom?” the Orion’s voice whispered in Tom’s cybernetic ears.

  Instead of verbally replying, Tom concentrated, allowing his biolink to pick up on his thoughts. “Proceed.”

  “Lashpa is here. Her ship is landing now.”

  Tom stepped out of the observation room and gently closed the door. “Connect us,” he commanded.

  A moment later, Laspha’s reptilian face appeared, floating in the air like a ghost less than a meter in front of Tom. The Orion had chosen to establish a visual connection through Tom’s cybernetic eyes.

  “I thought you might show up,” Tom told her. “Did you enjoy your dinner?”

  “I did,” Lashpa replied. “The fresh anchovies were delicious. Paula and your sister are very disappointed that you were unable to be there.”

  “I was really looking forward to some of Paula’s lasagna,” Tom said, licking his lips. “There’s nothing like authentic lasagna cooked in a seasoned iron skillet.”

  “I brought some with me.”

  “I’m getting hungry just thinking about it. How far away are you?”

  “Fifteen minutes. My ship is dropping the tricycle now.”

  “I’ll meet you in the lobby. I hope you don’t mind if I eat while we talk.”

  “Not at all.”

  The micro-probe was just approaching a large grayish blob when Tom returned to the observation room. Doctor Sing turned and said, “That’s the pathogen! This is the first time anyone has ever seen it.”

  Tom found he couldn’t get as excited as the doctor over a gray-colored blob. “What am I looking at?” he asked, after staring at the monitor for a few seconds.

  “These,” Doctor Sing said, using her finger to point out the details, “are nerves. These blobs wrapped around the synaptic gap between them are the pathogens. Biomaster Flothir is going to obtain a sample of one of them as well as a few larger samples of the patient’s brain. The samples will be taken to one of our microbiology labs for further analysis. Flothir has ordered us to clear one out so he can have exclusive use of the lab.”

  Unable to stay interested, Tom simply nodded his head and kept out of the way. Ten minutes later, Flothir announced he had obtained several samples and was extracting the endoscope.

  “Thank you for your cooperation,” Flothir told Nathan. “Although I cannot help you, the samples I obtained might allow us to develop a cure.”

  “Glad to hear that Doc. Please, I can’t take this anymore. Time for me to check out.”

  Reaching over to the device controlling the flow of fluids flowing into Nathan’s vein, Flothir keyed in a command. The small bag of poison quickly shrank as the clear liquid was delivered. A few seconds later, Nathan stopped struggling and became still.

  “These samples must be analyzed immediately,” Flothir said as he headed for the door.

  “I’ve already alerted the microbiology lab,” Doctor Sing replied. “Everyone should be out by the time you arrive.”

  “Make sure Biomaster Flothir gets anything he asks for” Tom told her. “If you don’t have it here, let me know. I’ll be in the cafeteria.”

  “Peacekeeper Wilks!” Flothir said as Tom turned to leave.

  “Yes?”

  “Thank you for getting me here so quickly. This is the first time we’ve ever been able to obtain a sample of this pathogen.”


  “You’re welcome,” Tom replied. “Just doing my job.”

  Chapter 4

  Tom found Lashpa in the lobby surrounded by a small group of people. As soon as he stepped off the elevator, she excused herself and met him half-way. An embrace between a large, lizard-like creature standing on four stout legs and sprouting two nearly-human arms from her chest and a human is an interesting sight to behold. But when the two individuals are equipped with cybernetic limbs and clad in black armor it almost becomes a spectacle. The crowd that had been hanging around Lashpa stared in disbelief as the two peacekeepers embraced each other, armor clacking against armor.

  “It’s good to see you again,” Tom said as they separated.

  “It’s good to see you as well,” Lashpa replied.

  Tom was speaking in Galactic Standard, an artificial language understood by nearly all citizens of the Galactic Alliance. Lashpa, however, could not speak Standard and utilized her native Rouldian language. A small computer built into his cybernetics performed the translation and fed the words to him through his cybernetic ears. As far as he was concerned, she was speaking Standard.

  Lashpa reached into a bag hanging around her neck and pulled out a small container. “Your lasagna.”

  “You have no idea how much I wanted to be there,” Tom said as he took the container. “I haven’t seen Cassandra and Paula for months. Thanks for coming here. Not being able to see you would have ruined my day.”

  “I’ve finished my assignment on Crapshoot,” Lashpa said, moving a few chairs out of the way so she could stand near one of the empty tables. “I have a few days before I must report back to my post in China. We’ll have plenty of time to catch up.”

  Tom pulled out a seat and sat down. Popping open the container, he discovered that the lasagna inside was still piping hot.

  “Fresh out of the oven,” Lashpa said, settling into a position next to him. None of the chairs in the cafeteria were suitable for Rouldian physiology. But standing, especially for a cybernetically enhanced individual, was just as easy as sitting.

  “So what did you find on Crapshoot?” Tom asked, picking up a forkful of lasagna and gently blowing on it.

  “I would like to meet the person who named that planet,” she replied. “The dispute between the miners has been resolved to the satisfaction of both parties. The- - -”

  “I thought you went there to take care of a drug problem?” Tom interrupted.

  “That was my original assignment,” Lashpa said. “The flow of illegal drugs for the Terran miners has been stopped.”

  “Oh my god! This is good!” Tom said, savoring his first bite. “Sorry, please continue.”

  “Not long after I arrived, I discovered that corruption was deeply embedded in nearly all levels of the local government which was made up mostly of Terrans. It took longer than expected to locate and stop the drug trafficking because my investigations were being interfered with by the local law enforcement. Based on the evidence I collected, almost half of the small police force and most of the elected officials have been arrested.”

  “I didn’t know that—good job! Is that why you canceled our first planned vacation almost a month ago?”

  “Yes. The dispute between the miners began as the drug investigation was wrapping up. I think the Terrans blamed the Tholtarans for initiating the drug bust. I had to remain there until a mutually agreeable solution between the two groups could be arranged.”

  “So where were the drugs coming from?”

  “Mars.”

  “Sounds to me like they need a full-time peacekeeper assigned to keep them in line.”

  Lashpa’s tail rippled, a sure sign she was concerned about something. Seeing this, Tom added, “They want you to go back, don’t they?”

  “Peacekeeper command has asked if I would be interested in becoming Crapshoot’s Planetary Supervisor.”

  A twinge in his stomach caused Tom to put his fork down. “What did you say?”

  “I have not yet replied to the request. I wanted to talk to you about it first.”

  “I appreciate that,” Tom replied. “Crapshoot isn’t that far away and it- - -”

  “I would rather remain assigned to Earth,” Lashpa interrupted. “We will discuss this further at a later time. Right now, I want to know why you’re here,” she said, waving her arm around to indicate she was talking about the hospital.

  “Didn’t your ship tell you?”

  “Of course, but I’m interested in hearing your opinion. Is T11-N106 as bad as the Omel make it out to be?”

  Tom had stuffed the first few forkfuls of lasagna into his mouth almost as fast as he could chew and swallow them. Deciding he had best slow down, he set his fork aside and looked at Lashpa. “Apparently, there’s only been a few cases reported and they’ve never been able to obtain a sample of the pathogen. Biomaster Flothir managed to get one today. As he was heading for the lab, he told me I might have just saved Earth from a catastrophic disease.”

  “That’s interesting,” Lashpa replied. “Krish has been monitoring all communications per my request looking for any additional information. Shortly before you arrived at the hospital, Sorbith sent a high priority request to peacekeeper central command asking for all information concerning the previous patients as well as everything the Omel currently know about the disease. A non-enhanced peacekeeper has been assigned to track Nathan Smally’s every movement for as far back in time as possible.”

  Turning his attention back to his meal, Tom said, “This thing must be pretty bad then. I hope Biomaster Flothir can find something.”

  “Sorbith also filed a complaint with the council accusing the Omel biomasters of failing to inform the council of a situation that could challenge the security of the Alliance.”

  “What!” Tom replied, spitting out a small particle of lasagna meat. Wiping his mouth, he said, “Why would he do that? Come to think of it, Sorbith has been in a really bad mood of late. I wonder what’s bothering him.”

  “He’s Saulquin, and it’s his pod’s mating time,” Lashpa said, as if reporting on the weather.

  “How do you know that?”

  “I asked Krish.”

  “I didn’t know our ships would provide us with that sort of information. That’s pretty personal,” Tom said.

  “It’s common knowledge to those who know Saulquins more than superficially.”

  “Not you too!” Tom said. Seeing the quizzical look Lashpa was giving him, he jabbed his fork into the lasagna and said, “Never mind. Go on.”

  “All advanced species retain many of their primitive instincts. The urge for a Saulquin to return to the ocean once a year where one was born is very powerful and it can affect his ability to make correct decisions. His AI is worried.”

  “I thought those kinds of urges could be controlled,” Tom said.

  “To a point, yes,” Lashpa replied. “But the Saulquin mating instinct is more than just a chemical change. It’s wired into their brains. He will be quite miserable for the next few weeks.”

  “Poor man,” Tom said, scrapping the last morsel of lasagna out of the container. “He’s hor- - -”

  “Excuse me!” a woman’s voice interrupted the conversation.

  Looking up, Tom saw Doctor Sing approaching. “Biomaster Flothir sent me to find you. He wants to brief you on what he’s found.”

  “Doctor Sing,” Tom said, getting up. “This is Peacekeeper Lashpa. Is it okay if she accompanies us?”

  Doctor Sing looked at the 3.5 meter-long Rouldian. Lashpa’s powerful legs angled out from her short body like those of an alligator causing her to take up more room than a typical human. Shrugging her shoulders, she said, “If she’s careful.”

  Despite Doctor Sing’s reservations, Lashpa made it to the lab without incident.

  Biomaster Flothir met them in the hallway in front of the door to the microbiology lab. “Doctor Sing, do you have a security clearance?”

  “A security clearance?” she ask
ed, her head quickly bouncing from Lashpa to Tom then back to Flothir. “I’m a doctor, why would I need a security clearance?”

  “Doctor Sing is a licensed disease specialist,” Tom said, passing on the information his ship was currently sending him. Although she does not have an official security clearance, there’s nothing in her current background preventing her from having one. Since she’s already involved, I’d like to include her in what you’ve discovered.”

  Flothir considered this for a moment. “Very well,” he said. Flothir looked back into the lab with its closely spaced workbenches and the ridiculously expensive equipment stationed around the room, then asked, “Doctor Sing, does this hospital have a conference room we can use?”

  “Of course,” she replied.

  Everyone followed Doctor Sing down to the end of the hall. Four doctors were already in the room looking at a set of detailed images of someone’s internals. “I’m sorry, we need this room,” she told them.

  “We’re briefing for a surgery,” one of them replied. “You’ll have to find another room.”

  Tom shouldered the doctor aside and stepped into the room. “Peacekeeper emergency,” he said. “You can wait in the hallway. This shouldn’t take too long.”

  The doctor opened his mouth to protest then abruptly clamped it shut. Turning to the others, he motioned toward the door with his head and said, “Out.”

  Flothir inserted a data stick into the computer while everyone was finding a place to sit or stand. Tom closed the door and stood with his back against it.

  “What I’m about to tell you is not to be discussed with anyone unless they have the proper clearance.”

  “And who might that be?” Doctor Sing asked.

  “Any biomaster and peacekeepers who are familiar with the organism,” Flothir replied. “No details of any research done here on T11-N106 will be retained in the hospital records or transmitted to any organization.”

  “Just how bad is this?” Doctor Sing asked. “I have a responsibility to- - -”

  “This is a matter of Alliance security,” Tom told her. “If you want to hear what Biomaster Flothir has discovered, you’ll have to agree to his terms. If you do, you’ll be held accountable if you violate the trust we’re placing in you. If you don’t, you need to leave the room. It’s your choice.”