THE ALTIAN PLAGUE

by D M Arnold

  5 -- The Tulsa Virus

  A shaft of orange sunlight fell across Nyk's eyes and waked him. He could hear chatter and laughter coming from the kitchen. The talking quieted. A rap came on the door. “Come,” he said.

  Senta slid the door open. “You can come out now. They've left.”

  “Good thing. I need to use the commode in the worst way.”

  “Tie a knot in it.”

  Nyk smiled and headed for the apartment's lavatory. Then, he stepped into the kitchen.

  “There's some tea left,” Senta told him.

  He poured a cup and opened a breakfast cake. Senta sat scooping from a warm packaged meal and gazing into a vidisplay. “Did you make any progress?” Nyk asked. Senta continued to stare at her screen. “Senta?” She looked up. “Must you?”

  “I'm sorry, Nyk. Since I've been living alone I've become accustomed to looking at the news at breakfast.”

  “What's in the news?”

  “Mostly the usual. Here's an item: The Seven have delivered, via an unwitting courier, their latest set of demands.”

  “The Seven?”

  “It's what the independence faction on Altia are calling themselves these days.”

  “What are their demands?”

  “They want the immediate dissolution of the New Altian Senate, the removal of High Legislature observers, the return of old order officials who've been detained... The usual sorts of things.” She switched off the vidisplay. “What were you asking me?”

  “I was wondering if you made any progress last night.”

  “With the twins? I should say I did.”

  “No -- with the virus.”

  “Oh... No, Nyk. I'll look at it today. I have some meetings with other Food Service directors. I'll look at it between sessions.” Nyk looked down. “I'll look at it today, I promise. Don't give me the long face. Why is this so important to you?”

  “Marxo wasn't supposed to die. He wasn't supposed to get sick. This virus gives me a bad feeling in my gut.”

  “Are you sure you weren't exposed to it?” Nyk looked daggers at her. “Just a thought. Nyk -- if you'd like I could turn this over to one of my assistants. I'd go so far as to dedicate a mod's worth of time to it. I'd call it a government project.”

  He shook his head. “For now I want to keep this between the two of us. Seymor chides me for wasting time with things outside my domain of responsibility.”

  “This man was one of your direct reports, wasn't he?”

  Nyk nodded. “Yes, he was.”

  “I'd say that makes it your domain of responsibility.” She put her hand over her mouth and suppressed a laugh.

  “What's so funny?”

  “The thought of YOU with direct reports...” She shook her head. “I hate to admit it, but Earth has been good for you. You'll get your answers faster if you let Kovina do the work. I'm very busy.”

  “Kovina?”

  “Yes -- she's my intern -- a third year student in genetics at Sudal University.”

  “All right -- let her do the grunt work. Tell her to keep it quiet. I wouldn't want to start a panic by letting slip we've been exposed to an incurable, lethal virus.”

  “I'm off to my meetings,” Senta said. “Will you be here tonight? I'll authorize your ID on the doorscan.”

  “No -- I'm meeting with the oversight chair and then heading home. I'll call in a day or so to check on Kovina's progress.”

  * * *

  “Good seeing you, Nykkyo,” said a middle-aged man wearing official insignia.

  “Illya, I wish it were under happier circumstances.”

  “How's that wife of yours doing?”

  “Suki? She seems to be settling in and happy in Sudal. I understand you pulled strings to get her registered as a native. Thank you for that.”

  “Yes -- since she can't return to Earth I saw no reason why she couldn't be a productive member of our society. Besides -- she'll prove her worth.”

  “You have plans for her -- don't you, Illya?”

  He smiled. “I have ideas. We'll let her get settled and comfortable and then we'll see if any of my ideas bear fruit. Now -- as to your visit today.”

  “We've lost an Agent -- Marxo Wellans.”

  “I read the report.” He closed his eyes. “Miserable stuff.”

  “Seymor thinks there's to be an inquiry.”

  “This looks fairly routine to me.”

  “It's hardly routine,” Nyk replied. “Floran Agents are not supposed to succumb to illness like that.”

  “Nyk -- we can't provide one hundred percent protection one hundred percent of the time. These things do happen. He fell victim to an Earth illness.”

  “This is a very odd illness.”

  “Have there been cases reported on Earth?”

  Nyk pondered. “I don't know -- I've been away.”

  “Check the news and see if others have succumbed. If so, the answer is clear. Marxo happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time and contracted a virus for which we have no protection. It's a risk all Agents face -- yourself included.”

  “I hadn't thought of it that way. I suppose you're right. New viruses emerge and we can't deal with them instantaneously.”

  “You're not going to stay up late and worry about it, are you?”

  “Me? Of course not. Still... something about this bothers me. Oh, well -- I know what Seymor will say. I should stick to my own domain of responsibility.”

  “That domain doesn't exclude thinking about things ... or reading about them,” Kronta replied. He smiled and gave Nyk a wink. “Your report and this interview will suffice to close the Marxo Wellans case. Have a good transit, Nyk.”

  * * *

  Nyk paid the cabby and walked up the steps to the house in Queens. He had parked the bubble shuttle on the roof of Seymor's penthouse and taken a cab from Midtown. Treading softly he slipped his house key into the lock and opened the door.

  He heard the sound of the TV in the living room. Yasuko was asleep in her robe, sitting in an arm chair. “Yasuko,” he whispered. “Yasuko ... Yasuko...”

  She opened her eyes. “Nick -- you're back. What time is it?”

  “One in the morning.”

  “I must've dozed off.” She stood and stretched. “I think I'll go sleep in my bed -- it'll be better for my back.”

  “Good night Yasuko.” He watched as she headed for the master bedroom.

  Nyk turned to the television. It was tuned to a news network. He reached to switch it off but the news report stopped him.

  Health authorities have reported the thirty-fourth case of the mysterious Tulsa virus. Of the other thirty-three cases, twenty-five have died and the other eight are in critical condition...

  He sat and watched the news report and learned that the symptoms were identical to Marxo's; that no treatment slowed the illness's advance; that death inevitably came from multiple organ failure. Well, he thought, Kronta was right. Marxo was in the wrong place at the wrong time...

  He reached for the remote and again paused as a bit of new information came his way. Scientists at the Center for Disease Control had traced the outbreak to a passenger on a flight from Tulsa to Kansas City. Eight passengers on the Tulsa to Dallas/Fort Worth leg had been infected -- those sitting in seats 13D, E and F, 14D and F and row 15 had all succumbed. In addition, two who had flown on a connecting flight from DFW to Kansas City had become ill.

  Now the authorities were looking for one passenger who had been on both flights -- a passenger named Brian Wilson. Nyk pondered. Marxo's Earth name had been Brian Altman. Wilson had sat in row 14 on the flight to Dallas, and in seat 8C to KC. The newscaster referred to him as Passenger 14E.

  Nyk switched off the television, sprinted upstairs to the apartment and placed a phone call. He heard it ring. “Hello?” a groggy voice answered.

  “Grynnya! It's Nykkyo.”

  “Oh, Nick...”

  “Who is it?” he heard a muffled man's voice.

  �
�It's my boss in New York.”

  “I thought your boss was at the hospital.”

  “I do consulting for an outfit in New York. Nick! This had better be important. Do you know what time it is?”

  “Around midnight in your area... is this an inopportune time?”

  “You could call it that.”

  “Have you heard the news reports about Passenger 14E?”

  “Yes -- and the virus. Looks like the same thing that got Mar... Brian.”

  “You said he arrived by air. Do you know from where?”

  “From Scottsdale.”

  “Are you sure? Did he say that? Did you see his ticket stubs?”

  “Why, no... I was assuming.”

  “Do you still have his personal effects?”

  “They're in a folder downstairs. Do you want me to...”

  “If it's not too much trouble.”

  “Oh, no. Never too much trouble.” She yawned. “Hold on...” He heard the phone being set down and a conversation growing more animated. A door slammed. It slammed again. All was quiet.

  Someone approached the phone. “Nykkyo...”

  “Your company left?”

  “Yes... it was Leo and he's pissed. He needs his beauty sleep.”

  “I'm sorry, Grynnya.”

  “Oh, he'll get over it in a few days -- as soon as he gets horny enough. Okay, I have Marxo's personal belongings.”

  “See if there's a ticket stub.”

  “Just a sec... Yes... Flight 1714... Tulsa to Dallas ... seat 14E. He changed planes in Dallas and flew to Kansas City -- seat 8C.

  “We found Passenger 14E! What was the name on the tickets?”

  “Hold on... Brian Wilson.”

  “His Earth name was Brian Altman.”

  “I have his wallet... There's a driver's license with the name Brian Wilson ... wait a sec... There's another one here for Brian Altman... His credit cards all say Brian Altman. Nyk -- we don't dare go to Earth authorities with this information. What should I do with it?”

  “Burn it, I'd say. Burn all of it.”

  “First thing in the morning.”

  * * *

  Nyk descended the stairs and sat at the kitchen table. Yasuko placed a bowl of oatmeal before him. “How was your trip?”

  He shook his head. “Strange. I wish there were some other way... I'm sorry to be away from home so much, Yasuko.”

  “I'm used to it. George would fly out of town on a moment's notice. You do what you must do, Nick. Nicky and I are fine.” She poured coffee for him. “Have you been following this new Tulsa virus?”

  He sipped his coffee. “I saw a blurb on the news last night.”

  She sat across from him. “Scary, isn't it? They say no one who contracted it has recovered. I heard another case surfaced yesterday. The authorities say it moves so fast -- if we can go forty-eight hours without a new case -- they'll consider it contained. I'm just glad all the cases have been down south.”

  He gulped his coffee. “Let's hope it is contained.”

  “All these new illnesses worry me, Nick. Everyone's on edge with this anthrax business, and they're talking about resuming smallpox vaccinations.”

  “From the reports this was neither smallpox nor anthrax.”

  “That worries me more. All these new diseases ... we've had West Nile and Mad Cow ... every year some new flu strain pops up ... something out west carried in mouse droppings ... and, now this. I wonder what sort of world Nicky will inherit?”

  “About the same world as we have now.”

  “And, not a single victim survived. They're all dead. Maybe when I go out I'll buy some plastic and duct tape.”

  “Yasuko -- no need for those measures.”

  “Better to have it and not need it than need it and not have it.”

  “If it'll help you sleep at night then go stock up on tape and plastic.” He stepped to the high chair. “Hey, Nick!” Nicky held out his palm and Nyk gave it a gentle slap. “Bye, Nick!” He picked up his case, kissed Yasuko on the forehead and headed out the door.

  * * *

  Nyk rapped on the door to Seymor's office. His boss was on the phone; he spotted Nyk and waved him in. Nyk pulled the door shut and sat in a chair across from the desk.

  Seymor put down the phone. “Lev -- we're working on our latest set of diamonds.”

  “I have some crystals Dyppa gave me,” Nyk said. “They're at the house -- I was going to let Suki's uncle have a few.”

  “Fine, Nyk. How went it on the homeworld?”

  “I hope I never have to witness anything like that again,” Nyk replied, “to watch a man die before your eyes. Kronta felt it's an isolated incident -- Marxo was in the wrong place at the wrong time. I'd say he was -- he was on that flight from Tulsa to Kansas City.”

  “Marxo? In Tulsa?”

  “Yes -- Grynnya has his ticket stub. Marxo was the mysterious, missing Passenger 14E who's been in the news. If Suki's mom's reaction is any guide, I'll say the native population is plenty anxious about this disease. She's ready to wrap the house in plastic.”

  “I don't blame them. The whole country -- the whole world is on edge. First the Trade Center and then those anthrax letters ... I've been here thirty years and I've never seen anything like it. It certainly doesn't make our work any easier.” Seymor drummed his desk with a pencil. “Tulsa? What was Marxo doing in Tulsa? Work related?”

  “Good question,” Nyk replied. “And, what was he doing with two Earth identities?”

  “Two?”

  “He flew under the name of Brian Wilson. Grynnya found two driver's licenses.”

  “That is odd... Very odd...”

  “He must've been doing something other than his assignment,” Nyk said. “I can go through his draw account and see if I can find anything there. Too bad we can't ask him. I suppose we'll need to start recruiting someone to replace him in Scottsdale.”

  “Maybe not. If Dyppa works out -- maybe she can shoulder the Scottsdale load, too. After all -- Marxo's performance was nothing to shoot off fireworks over.”

  “That's true. You and I discussed more than once sending him up due to poor performance. Well -- he's been sent up. Seymor -- what would we have done if he had died here on Earth?”

  “We prefer that not happen,” Seymor replied. “It has a few times over the years. How we handle it depends on circumstances. If Earth authorities are involved, it complicates matters considerably. We prefer Florans who've completed their tours -- one way or another -- to simply vanish into thin air.”

  “As Marxo has done. I see...” Nyk stood and grabbed his case. “Well, I'm off to my domain of responsibility.”

  * * *

  Nyk opened the door to the office suite. “Good morning, Mr Kane,” Jaquie said to him.

  “Good morning, Jaquie.” She handed him an envelope. “What's this?”

  “Mr Seymor asked me to make some travel plans for you.”

  “Where?”

  “To Scottsdale, Arizona.”

  Nyk rolled his eyes. “I think I know what this is about...” He stepped into Seymor's office and pulled the door shut. “A trip to Scottsdale ... to sanitize Marxo's operation.”

  “Lad -- you ARE a natural at this. I took the liberty of canceling our lease on the lab facility. We only had to pay a fifty percent penalty.”

  “We're keeping it shut?”

  “For the time being.”

  Nyk opened the envelope and looked inside. “Noon flight to Phoenix...” He looked at his boss and squinted. “Rental car?”

  “You have your license, lad -- you might as well put it to use. It's about the only way to get around Phoenix.”

  “And, you expect me to come home alive...” He scanned the itinerary. “Two rooms at the Motel 6?”

  “I've asked young Dyppa to join you.”

  “Dyppa? Why?”

  “Because -- four hands are better than two. Maybe some of the gear is stuff she can use in Wisconsin. There is a backlog of re
quests from the plant breeders.”

  “I'll turn it over to her. Are we sanitizing both his home and the lab or just the lab?”

  “Just the lab. I'm sending Grynnya to do his house.”

  “You're assigning all of North American Operations to this project. Why Grynnya?”

  “She can do a thorough decontamination -- if necessary.”

  “Did Marxo have a shuttlecar?”

  “Shit! I forgot about the shuttlecar...” He drummed his fingers on the desk. “I guess I'll have Grynnya take it to the relay station. One of us can ride the bubble up there and fetch her home.”

  “When you say us, do you mean one of me, myself and I?”

  “Have you someone else in mind? I wouldn't give that assignment to the girl -- she's too green.”

  “I'm not the only one in this office qualified to pilot the bubble shuttle, Seymor...” Seymor slid his reading glasses down his nose and looked over them at Nyk. “Okay, Boss... I'll scoot home, pack my case and give Yasuko the bad news.”

  * * *

  Nyk stepped into the baggage claim area of the Phoenix airport. He saw Dyppa loitering with a suitcase at her feet. She spotted him and waved.

  “Let me grab my bag from the carousel,” he said. “We have a rental car waiting. How was your flight?”

  “Harrowing,” she replied. “It took me until now to get my heart rate to under a hundred a minute.”

  “That's right -- you don't like flying.” He saw his bag slide onto the carousel, stepped to it and snatched it. “Let's get our car and find someplace to have some dinner -- then we'll check into our hotel rooms.”

  Dyppa walked with him to the rental car shuttle. He stood in line and presented his driver's license and debit card, signed the forms and picked up a road map. With a nod toward the door, he headed for the parking lot and located his assigned vehicle.

  Stowing their bags in the trunk he opened the door and climbed in. Dyppa sat in the passenger seat. He surveyed the dashboard. “This is what I'm supposed not to attempt driving?” she asked.