by Jean Lorrah
And it was all useless; if the virus had not been in the ventilation system before—if Amanda had caught it by contact with Sendet—it was certainly in the ship’s air supply now.
Wearing protective gear, Dr. Gardens met them, helped Sarek arrange Amanda on one of the beds, and turned on the life-signs indicator. It began wailing, for her fever was at the danger level, her heartbeat rapid and irregular.
The doctor started the bed cooling and quickly shot two different medications into Amanda. “Please help me get her undressed,” she said to Sarek. “No one we’ve had isolated has become ill so far. I’d rather not expose my nurses yet if I don’t have to. I fear our whole staff is going to be desperately needed before this thing runs its course.”
While Amanda was being settled, Spock called Kirk. There was a moment’s silence from the captain’s quarters after Spock relayed the news. Then, “God, Spock, I am so sorry. Don’t worry, I’ll take care of it from here on.”
Don’t worry. How typically Human. Spock did not bother to claim Vulcans don’t worry—he admitted to himself that he was indeed worried, and knew that Sarek was as well. He turned from the intercom, going back to where his mother lay, pale and unconscious, now clad in a green sickbay coverall.
“She’s stabilized for the moment,” said Dr. Gardens. “Now there’s nothing to do but wait, and treat symptoms as they occur. Stay with her if you like. You can’t be more exposed than you’ve already been.”
Sarek pulled up a chair beside the bed. Spock started to do the same, when he suddenly realized—
“Doctor, I must be isolated. You saw the reports from Nisus. I have both Vulcan and Human blood: even now, my body may be spawning some even deadlier form of the disease, one that could kill both my father and my mother.”
Chapter Twenty-one
Dr. Leonard McCoy was already tired when he beamed down to Nisus. Within a day, he was exhausted. Every able-bodied physician was on call, for the hospital was flooded with plague victims. When he was not treating patients, he was in the computer room with Nisus medical staff and whoever of the experts they had brought along was also free at that moment.
He saw why more than half the doctors and nurses here had died; in the perpetual exhaustion caused by caring for such huge numbers of patients, they had no resistance.
Exposure was inevitable; no one could spend his life in mask, gloves, and protective clothing. Even in the contagion wards, stress brought mistakes. All it took, for example, was wiping one’s own bare forehead with the same gloved hand that had just touched the patient’s arm while administering a hypo. In his long career, McCoy had seen it many times before. Most would never even remember the slip that introduced the virus into their systems, nor would they ever know whether it was an error while on duty, or other exposure while off.
So far, the only hopeful discovery was the fact that the virus lived for less than an hour outside a living organism; any environment unoccupied for at least an hour was plague-free. But people could not stop interacting altogether. Families could not separate. Victims had to be cared for, and every day more succumbed than recovered.
Finally, after eighteen straight hours of physical labor interspersed with concentrated mental effort, McCoy fell asleep in his chair. When someone tried to lift him, he woke only enough to cooperate in transferring himself to a couch.
But he had slept hardly enough to take the edge off when someone shook him. “Sorry, Doctor— emergency priority from the Enterprise.”
He was led to a communications console. “Yeah,” he said groggily. “McCoy here.”
“Bones.” The gravity in Jim’s voice brought him wide awake.
“What’s happened?”
“We’ve got it aboard. Amanda. Spock and Sarek have both been exposed.”
“Beam me up,” was McCoy’s first thought.
“Wish I could—but you’re needed where you are.”
“Jim, it’s a shambles here! I’m working like a damn intern, and so are all the other doctors. We’re not getting anywhere on research because of patient crises. Half their doctors and nurses have died of this thing, and the rest are walking wounded with stress and exhaustion.”
“All the more reason to stay,” Kirk told him. “Your staff can handle sickbay. At least there’s one good thing.”
“What’s that?”
“We can’t go off and leave you now. The Enterprise is stuck here until you figure out a cure. So when we do leave, you can come with us.”
“Thanks,” McCoy said cynically. Then somethingthe captain had said penetrated. “Jim! Remember the mutation pattern! If Spock’s been exposed—”
“He knows. He isolated himself immediately,” Kirk replied. “So I’m stuck without either of you. But then, I don’t have anything to do except stay in orbit.” McCoy heard the frustration in his captain’s voice; a virus was not the kind of enemy a man of action knew how to fight.
Do I? McCoy wondered as he broke contact.
After that bad news, McCoy could not go back to sleep, so he went over to the bank of computers. Sorel and Corrigan were conferring over schematic diagrams of the virus in its varied forms. “Computer,” said Corrigan, “schematic of strain C-four, interacting with the blood sample from Karl Katasai.”
McCoy watched as the impersonal patterns on the screen shifted and changed. “There it is again!” said Sorel. McCoy thought he detected actual excitement in the Vulcan healer’s voice. “Daniel, it appears we have identified the factor that prevents this virus from growing in Klingons.”
“What is it?” asked McCoy.
“Here.” Corrigan pointed to a location on the screen where the now-familiar schematic of the virus had attached itself to an unfamiliar organic molecular structure. “This blood factor binds with the virus and prevents it from multiplying. It just shrivels up and dies!”
“I’ve seen a structure like that somewhere before,” McCoy said, “but I can’t think where. Wasn’t exactly the same but—” He frowned. “I dunno. I’ve analyzed Klingon blood before. That must be where I saw it, but didn’t know what it was for.”
“It’s a hemoglobin factor,” said Sorel. “It is similar to something I have seen before too—but not identical. If we can isolate that factor, we may be able to produce a vaccine for iron-based blood.”
“What about a cure for someone who already has the disease?” McCoy asked.
“It should work,” said Corrigan. “We’ll certainly try it.”
“Let me transmit this to the Enterprise,” said McCoy. “Spock can work on it there—maybe we can develop a serum in time to help Amanda.”
Suddenly both the healer and the doctor were staring at him. “Amanda?” asked Corrigan. “The plague is aboard ship?”
McCoy told them about his message from Kirk. “So it won’t hurt to beam some serum aboard now, if we can make it.”
“We should beam up and work on it in the Enterprise laboratory,” said Sorel. “You’ve got two of the three available suppliers of the blood we need aboard.”
“Huh?” Weariness was catching up with McCoy again.
“The other two Klingons,” Corrigan explained. “Karl’s father and brother—they’re in the Enterprise sickbay.”
“Klingons in my sickbay?” McCoy roared.
“Leonard,” Daniel said reasonably, “Captain Kirk would not have beamed them aboard if they were a danger to the Enterprise. As it turns out, if we are correct about being able to make a serum from Klingon blood, our only problem will be supply. It simply will not be possible to make enough.”
Chapter Twenty-two
Captain James T. Kirk walked the corridors of his ship, silently cursing the virus attacking his crew and his friends. The closed system that ordinarily protected them was now providing a perfect environment for the virus to spread. Short of redesigning the ship, there was not a thing to do about it.
He longed for an enemy he could face man-to-man, outfight, or outwit. How was a starship captain suppose
d to combat the unseen menace of a virus?
“Captain Kirk,” came Uhura’s voice.
Kirk walked over to a wall unit and punched the button savagely. “Kirk here.”
“Message from Dr. McCoy.”
“Put him through.”
“Jim, we think we’ve found—” McCoy began.
The red-alert claxon drowned out whatever the doctor was going to say. “Bones, we’ve got an emergency. Contact you later. Kirk out.”
He punched intraship. “What the hell’s going on?”
“Intruders in engineering!” came a voice he didn’t recognize. “Captain, they’re—” A yelp, a muffled thud.
Kirk punched the button. “Engineering! Status!”
There was no answer.
“Computer! Give me engineering status!” he demanded.
“All systems operational,” the calm mechanical voice informed him. “Alarm manually operated. Access to engineering closed.”
“Get those doors open!” Kirk demanded, starting to turn away and head for the turbolift.
“Access to engineering locked and both computer and manual override disengaged,” the computer informed him.
“Damn!” He punched the intercom again. “Scotty—”
But his chief engineer was isolated in sickbay.
So was Spock.
The captain of the Enterprise remembered to turn off the intercom before he swore vehemently, then turned and ran to the turbolift. “Engineering deck!”
The doors opened into a locked room. In all three directions, the emergency doors were closed across the corridors. Kirk could not go farther than ten meters from the turbolift in any direction.
Two men and a woman from security were slumped on the floor. Kirk quickly checked that all were breathing.
The engineering intercom came to life, Scotty’s voice demanding, “What’s goin’ on doon there? Who’s muckin’ about with my engines?”
“I don’t know yet, Scotty,” Kirk told him. “Whoever it is has secured the emergency doors. Stay put. I’ll let you know what we find out.”
The turbolift doors opened. Lieutenant Nelson and three more security personnel hurried out, armed with phasers.
“They’re all alive,” Kirk quickly assured them as they glimpsed their fallen comrades. “Must’ve been stunned.”
“No,” said Nelson, pulling open one man’s shirt toshow the bruises. “Nerve-pinched. It’s those Vulcan rebels. Shoulda carried ‘em in the brig from the start.”
“That’s where they’ll make the rest of the trip!” Kirk vowed. “Get them out of there!”
“Aye, Captain,” Nelson said calmly. “Olag, schematics for these doors. Corcoran, find all engineering personnel not trapped in there and put them to work on—”
Just then one of the emergency doors slid open.
They all turned—to see the limp bodies of the engineering crew lying in the corridor, and behind them the next emergency door, securely shut.
All of these people were also alive, also unconscious.
Kirk left Nelson there and went to the bridge.
Soon the rebels were ready to communicate.
Sendet appeared on the screen. “Captain Kirk, we have control of your engineering section. As you know, the entire ship can be operated from here. We will leave orbit in two hours. Have crew and passengers beam down to Nisus before that time. When we leave orbit, we will expose all areas of the ship outside engineering to lethal doses of radiation.”
“Why would you do that?” Kirk asked.
“You have brought aboard the Enterprise two people contaminated with the IDIC plague, and it has spread to one of your passengers. The radiation will kill the virus, but it will also kill anyone on board outside the area we have secured. The Followers of T’Vet intended to go peacefully into exile. But you have acted irresponsibly and failed to provide safe conduct. Your ship stands forfeit. We have the right to preserve our lives, and the Enterprise—”
“Wrong, Sendet,” Kirk interrupted. He could see Satat out of focus behind Sendet and was sure the older Vulcan did not know the true story. “You brought the plague aboard. You were the only person in contact with the Lady Amanda who—” It suddenly dawned on him why Sendet had not appeared to be lying when he claimed he had beamed nothing up from Nisus.
“You didn’t beam something up!” Kirk exclaimed. “You beamed yourself down to the planet—and then back up again! How many people did you contact? What did you touch? The transporter controls at Nisus Central, certainly! And you breathed the air; you brought it back here in your own lungs, and breathed it on Sarek and Amanda.”
Rebel Sendet might be, but he had been raised in the normal Vulcan culture, which made him a poor liar. As Kirk deduced what had happened, Sendet’s face froze with the effort to control.
Satat came forward, took one look at Sendet, and demanded, “Why? Why would you do something so illogical?”
“I had to try once more to persuade T’Pina,” Sendet admitted. “Satat, you know we need females. I thought there was no danger of exposure to the disease in the small area where I meant to go.”
Sendet’s voice became perfectly flat, the way Spock’s did when he spoke of something that would have had a Human racked with emotion. “I beamed down outside the terminal. Inside, I would certainly have faced the transporter operator; outside I risked being seen materializing, but I succeeded as I intended in beaming into the freight storage area.
“I walked out into the street and found everything deserted. In the distance, the group from the Enterprise were walking toward the hospital. They were the only people moving on the streets.
“I realized then that I would not be able to get to T’Pina as I had hoped. I had thought she would go home first, and that I would follow and speak to her alone. Instead, she went with the others directly to the hospital.
“As I was considering my course of action, a Human male came out of one of the buildings, screaming. An Andorian ran after him, but he turned and began to attack the one trying to help him. Two Vulcans came out, subdued the Human, and began to carry him toward the hospital. I heard one say to the other, ‘There are no more beds. They are treating patients in the corridors and sending home anyone recovered enough to be moved.’ The Andorian followed them, saying, ‘Few recover. We can only hope these new doctors can help.’
“I heard something inside the transporter terminal —I thought it was something else being beamed down from the Enterprise, so I went in, thinking to hide until all the transporter operations were finished and then beam back aboard. But only one platform was in operation, with no one to run it. I found the operator behind the console … dead. It appeared that the sound I had heard—she … had turned a phaser on herself. I had no desire to see more. I set the controls and beamed back up to the Enterprise.”
“Oh, my God,” Kirk whispered. “You touched those controls that the dead woman had just been handling—”
“She was a suicide, not a plague victim!” said Sendet.
Kirk winced. “Violence is the first symptom of theworst strain; that’s what you saw on the street. That woman was alone when it struck her, and she turned the violence on herself. Sendet, you exposed yourself, and then you beamed back and gave the disease to Lady Amanda. Probably to Sarek too—the incubation period appears to be longer in Vulcans than in Humans.”
Satat stepped forward. “Isolate him,” he directed the other Vulcans, who came into monitor range. “Don’t touch him. Snil, rig a filter for the room you put him in—”
“You’re too late,” said Kirk. “You’re all exposed.”
“Not necessarily,” Satat replied. “Sendet, you had the sense to disinfect yourself as soon as you returned to the Enterprise, didn’t you?”
“Of course,” Sendet replied.
“So, unless you have become contagious already, we may not have been exposed.”
“Satat, you’re dreaming,” said Kirk. “Sendet has seen to it that we need do noth
ing about getting you out of engineering. The Enterprise cannot go anywhere until a cure for the plague is found. Except to make certain you cannot leave orbit, we can just leave you in engineering until you open those doors of your own accord, to ask for medical help.”
Chapter Twenty-three
T’Pina was working in the isolation ward where all Nisus citizens of mixed heritage were housed, away from the rest of the population. As many of them were ill as was true among the population in general. While her mother had been assigned nursing duty among those who were stricken, T’Pina’s job was to try to keep the many healthy children occupied.
It was not easy. They had been isolated for more than three days now, occupying the entire medical residence and attached minimal-care facility. Even so, they had three to four people in each room intended for two. In the daytime, the adults tried to entertain the children in the game and viewing rooms, the solarium, or the cafeteria area where T’Pina was assigned today.
All the children were restless; most were frightened. A number had become ill during their confinement and been taken away, and the older children inevitably talked about their friends dying, frightening the younger children even further.
There were, of course, adults of mixed heritage in the isolation ward as well, but they were so outnumbered by the children that even with help from volunteers like T’Pina they were constantly occupied, teaching lessons, organizing games, and explaining over and over why the children could not go home, or even outside, and why their parents could not come to see them.
It was equally difficult to explain why T’Pina and the other volunteers wore protective clothing, masks, and gloves.
“Why are you hiding from me?” demanded Ziona, a tiny, usually charming girl who was half Rigellian, half Hemanite. Today, though, she was close to hysterics, for she missed her family and was too young to understand what was happening.
“Why can’t I see your face?” Ziona demanded fitfully of T’Pina, making a grab for her mask that the young Vulcan woman was only narrowly able to evade.
