The Susquehanna Virus Box Set

by Steve McEllistrem

  Hackett said, “I can’t believe you’re thinking of—”

  “Have you got any better ideas?” Poole said.

  Hackett threw up his hands. “The only thing I’ve got is the Susquehanna Virus.”

  “The Susquehanna Virus?” Poole said.

  “It came up on the last LTV by orders of the President. A small sample for Devereaux to study.”

  “Get it,” Wellon said. “Quickly.”

  “We’d need Admiral Cho’s authorization,” Hackett said. He stared at Poole.

  She shrugged. “I don’t have any better ideas.”

  Pointing to the monitors, Wellon said, “You’re almost out of time.”

  Poole saw the NK cell count grow. How was Jones still alive? “Do it,” she finally said to Hackett. “We’ll have to quarantine this whole area afterwards. And you nurses need to leave too. Set up a decon chamber outside the door. We’ll sterilize the room afterwards.”

  As the nurses departed, Hackett nodded and followed them out the door. Turning to face Wellon, Poole looked up into those accusatory black eyes and said, “It was an accident. I don’t have many details. All I know is that he fell down SPR8.”

  Wellon’s brow tightened but she only continued to stare at Poole, ignoring the monitors. Poole found herself sweating. She hadn’t even considered what the Escala might do if Jones died. After Jeremiah rescued Devereaux in Minnesota, they counted him as their personal hero. And if they decided to rebel against the leadership on the Moon . . . well, they’d probably lose any fight against Admiral Cho’s troops, but they’d certainly create a dangerous environment. She finally realized why Elite Ops troopers had been assigned to the Moon.

  Within five minutes Hackett returned with a hypo pad, Admiral Cho behind him, halting just outside the door.

  “I don’t like it,” Cho said through the vidcom. “But if you’re sure it’s necessary, I’ll okay it.”

  “Dr. Wellon believes it’s our only option,” Poole replied.

  As confirmation, Wellon took the hypo pad from Hackett and injected Jones.

  Cho said, “If Jones survives, we’ve got to get him off the Moon pronto.”

  “I agree,” Poole replied. “We can’t let a carrier of the Susquehanna Virus stay on the Moon even if the virus isn’t particularly contagious. It’s too lethal. Even a one in a million chance of infection is too great. But Eli—”

  “Eli ain’t here. I’m in charge of security on the Moon. I didn’t want this damn virus up here in the first place. Keep me informed.”

  As Cho turned to leave, Poole concentrated on the monitors. Only the beeping of the systemic monitor and the quiet hum of the cooling unit disturbed the silence. Jones’ white cell count continued to grow, faster than before.

  “This isn’t working,” Hackett said.

  “Give it time,” Wellon said.

  “He’s dying.”

  “Patience.”

  Finally the white cell count began to level off. It was still dangerously high but at least it was no longer climbing. Poole realized she’d been holding her breath. She exhaled, breathed again, her chest tight, stomach knotted. Still she kept her eyes on the monitor, hoping the count would drop. No one in the room moved.

  “There,” Wellon said.

  “What?” Poole said.

  “The hemoglobin and platelet activity.”

  “What’s that got to do with the white cell count?”

  “It’s an indicator.”

  Wellon was right. The white cell count dropped fractionally. “It’s working,” Poole said. She felt goosebumps and wrapped her arms around herself tightly.

  “How did you know that would work?” Hackett asked.

  Wellon said, “I didn’t.” Then she turned and walked out of the room, stepping into the decon chamber the nurses had set up on the other side of the door.

  Poole caught up with her as she was removing her scrubs and said, “Thank you.”

  “He’s not clear yet,” Wellon replied.

  “He’ll survive,” Poole said.

  “He does that.”

  Chapter Eight

  While Jay-Edgar surfed channels in Elias Leach’s office, showing holo-projections of riots and demonstrations around the world, and the escalating conflict between China and India, Elias moved to the sofa, allowing Manyara Harris to tidy his desk. As usual, she’d turned the lights up, which mildly annoyed him; he preferred a slightly darkened room.

  “You don’t need to clean my office every day,” he said as he sank into the cushions and watched her, sniffing the lilac-scented cleanser she used. She always smelled of lilacs. God, he wanted her.

  As if she could read his mind, she said, “You’re a dirty old man.”

  “Yes, I am. And you’re a doctor. Why would you never let me help you get your license back?”

  Manyara straightened. She glanced at Jay-Edgar before turning to glare at Elias. “I killed your wife.”

  Jay-Edgar continued surfing, as if he hadn’t heard.

  “A mercy killing at my request,” Elias said, “and Jay-Edgar knows all my secrets.”

  “He know we’re lovers?” Manyara said, emphasizing the last word as she tilted her head toward Jay-Edgar.

  “Yes, he knows.”

  Manyara snorted as she shoved his papers aside and began polishing his desk. Elias preferred the printed page to computer screens, so every day she shuffled his papers around while cleaning up after him.

  “You could retire, you know,” he offered. “You could move in with me.”

  He closed his mouth, realizing his mistake, the pride she still possessed.

  “You could retire too. I’m sure you squirreled away a few million over the years.”

  Elias held up his hands. “Sorry.” He coughed. “I’ve got a big meeting with the President soon. Can you finish later?”

  “You been taking your medicine?”

  “Yes, dear.”

  “You look awful.”

  “Thanks,” Elias said. “As always, you’re a delight.”

  “And you’re a horse’s ass. Try not to get too riled up. Bad for a man as ancient as you.”

  “Will I see you later?”

  Manyara smiled at him as she wheeled her cart to the door. Dimming the lights the way Elias liked them, she shuffled out without responding. Minx. Elias glanced at the holo-projections Jay-Edgar displayed: riots in France, Nigeria, Houston and Detroit; violence against Devereauxnians by Fundamentalist Christians, Jews and Muslims; government crackdowns in Chile, Greece and Ghana; civil wars in Thailand, Turkmenistan and Mali; and cross-border incursions into India by militant Chinese groups.

  One holo-projection showed Elite Ops troopers monitoring protests in New York. They carried Las-rifles and particle beam cannons, sonic disruptors and stun grenades: giant robots wearing heavy armor. They had radar and proximity sensors, bomb and poison detectors, shields that kept them safe from virtually any attack. He shivered and looked away.

  As Elias reflected on what he intended to say to the President, his mind drifted back to the conversation he’d had with Admiral Cho and Dr. Poole. How could Jeremiah be in such bad shape? He was supposed to be the future. Elias had never considered the possibility that Jeremiah might die. And now he was infected with the virus, delivered to the Moon without Elias’ knowledge. What kind of morons send the virus to the Moon? And without telling me? Stay calm. Manyara’s right.

  A gurgling knot of fear twisted his stomach at the thought of losing Jeremiah. Even if Jeremiah hated him, Elias would always love Jeremiah like a son.

  Now more than ever Elias knew he was right to insist on Lendra having Jeremiah’s child—an insurance policy.

  “Got something, sir,” Jay-Edgar said.

  Elias looked at the holo-projection. “What is it?”

  �
��The last polar bear in the wild died today.”

  “You’re worried about polar bears?”

  Jay-Edgar said, “Eco-terrorists have declared war on industrialized countries.”

  “They’re hardly a major concern of ours,” Elias said. “They’re not organized enough and they don’t have access to sophisticated weapons.”

  “They’re organized now, sir. And I think one of the groups is headed by Susquehanna Sally.”

  Elias pushed himself off the sofa and moved closer to Jay-Edgar. “What have you found?”

  “A new message from the Earth Guardians. Using the same pattern of hijacked servers to deliver the threats she made when she took responsibility for creating the virus. A hundred-and-seventeen cutouts along eighty-three pathways emanating from fourteen different countries, none of them in the United States. It’s too big a coincidence to be anything but Susquehanna Sally.”

  The hair on the back of Elias’ neck stood on end. He said, “Let me see it.”

  An image appeared, two dimensional, of a middle-aged woman whose face had been softened and blurred into something unrecognizable. It looked like the same image Susquehanna Sally had used when she announced that she’d created the virus and delivered it to the Mayo Clinic years earlier. Elias had revisited that image many times. He knew it well. This was either the same person or someone who’d seen the original broadcast and was copying it to the letter. Over the years, the virus had adapted. Outbreaks had begun to occur in distant countries. And these new strains, while relatively isolated, were even more lethal than the original. The only saving grace to date was that the virus had not yet become easily transferable. But if it ever did . . .

  She spoke in that old-fashioned, computer-simulated voice he remembered so well:

  “To all the over-developed countries of the world—you still don’t get it. The death of the last polar bear, combined with the extinction of the Siberian tiger and the giant panda in the wild, proves your total disregard for this planet’s other species. Humans are not fit to steward our world. The Susquehanna Virus was engineered to be environmentally adaptable. It would survive only if the level of pollutants in our air and water continued to grow. And they have. Walt Devereaux was right when he said the virus will mutate. It’s already begun. It can’t be stopped. Soon the virus will wipe out every human on this planet.”

  The screen went dark. Elias shook his head. He’d read countless articles and analyses on the Susquehanna Virus; he’d talked to dozens of scientists about the possibility of the virus mutating; yet seeing Susquehanna Sally discussing it somehow brought the chill of it closer to the bone. He shrugged it off. There were more pressing matters to attend to. “Get Lendra,” he said. “Our meeting with the President starts in two minutes.”

  A minute later Lendra walked into the room and took her seat at the conference table next to Elias. She sat erect, ignoring him, instead staring toward the cameras they’d be using for the holo-conference, hands clasped in front of her. Her face looked as rigid as the interface she wore on her temple. Although her eyes were red, she wasn’t crying at the moment. Was she just being emotional as a result of the hormonal changes or did she harbor resentments over her coerced pregnancy? Or perhaps she feared for Jeremiah as much as Elias did. Did she care for him that much?

  Elias nodded to Jay-Edgar, who activated the debuggers and scramblers before connecting to the White House. Within seconds President Angelica Hope appeared on the holo-projection. Blond and still beautiful at sixty-one, a former tennis star and movie actress, she was a master manipulator of men. On her right sat General Ralph Horowitz, Chairman of the Joint Chiefs. On her left sat Vice President Miguel Rodriguez, wearing a dark suit and a crucifix on his lapel, proclaiming his dedication to God. Next to Rodriquez, Willow Estrada, the Secretary of State, wore a shimmer cloth ensemble and short brown hair. Sitting beside her was her supposedly secret lover, Eugenia Epps, the National Security Advisor, with similarly shorn dark hair and a light pink pantsuit. Playing the wife today, Elias thought. Across the table, next to General Horowitz, sat Anton Raskov, the Secretary of Defense, and Dr. Chandrika Jaidev, Secretary of Health and Human Services, who wore her usual blue sari. Behind them multiple screens showed happenings in other parts of the world.

  “Thanks for your promptness, Elias, Ms. Riley,” President Hope said in her contralto, almost smoky, voice. “I think everyone knows everyone.” She looked at Elias. “Did you see the transmission from Susquehanna Sally?”

  Elias nodded. “We’ll find a cure for the virus eventually.”

  The President turned to Dr. Jaidev and said, “How is progress on that front proceeding?”

  “So far,” Dr. Jaidev replied, “we haven’t been able to come up with an effective vaccine. As for treatments, we’ve been able to minimize the symptoms and lessen the virus’ severity in several test cases. But we’ve made the most progress on older strains of the virus. Unfortunately, it keeps mutating. Frankly, we may never get a handle on a cure.”

  “We’ve only seen six cases in the past month in Minnesota,” Vice President Rodriquez said. “Isn’t the virus becoming less of a threat?”

  “Rochester is a ghost town,” Dr. Jaidev said, “so there are few people subject to infection there. Meanwhile, new strains are spreading in Indonesia, China and southern Europe—slowly for now—but if these new variations become more contagious, the virus could decimate the global population.”

  “We have more immediate problems,” Elias said.

  “Terrorism,” Epps, the National Security Advisor, said. “American targets continue to be favored above all others.”

  “By a substantial margin,” Estrada said, her gaze fixed on Epps.

  Elias nearly rolled his eyes. Why not just announce that you’re sleeping with each other, he thought. At the same time, he was glad they were on his side. He was never sure how they were going to come down on an issue. All he knew was that each would support the other.

  “We’re still the world’s leader,” Epps said. “Our culture has pervaded every country.”

  Estrada said, “Hollywood and the adoration of celebrity. Consumerism. The desire to be like America, which is no longer possible due to the limited natural resources of the planet, makes for increased resentment.”

  Elias said, “I have a solution.”

  President Hope said, “Not your program again.”

  “I don’t see any other way. Even foreign governments are beginning to take action against us. For example, after the Islamic Freedom Front took responsibility for bombing the Jefferson Memorial last week, we discovered that they received funding from a nonprofit with ties to Pakistan and Iran. Those governments officially condemned the bombing but they’ve been surreptitiously funneling money to that same nonprofit.”

  “Can we prove that?” President Hope asked.

  “Not to the satisfaction of the UN.”

  General Horowitz said, “Every major government has created covert programs that allow them to achieve their ends without leaving fingerprints. War by proxy. It’s how things are done these days.”

  “Exactly,” Elias said, smacking his fist into his palm. “And each country is able to provide credible deniability to prevent retaliation. Look at the buildup of tension between China and India. They’re each sending small terror cells against the other. If that conflict escalates further, we’ll have a world war. Even assuming that doesn’t happen, the world is as fragmented as it’s ever been. We’ve reached a crisis point. We have to act now.”

  President Hope sighed. “You’re talking about more death, more destruction. How many lives will it take?”

  “Not that many,” Elias said. “A few carefully calibrated strikes at a few strategic political targets. Ten or twenty thousand lives.”

  “It’s an insane plan,” Raskov said in his slight Russian accent. “You won’t even tell us the details. All I k
now is that it will unite the world against us.”

  “It will never be traced to us,” Elias said. “At worst, it will be traced to me. And by not providing you details, I give you plausible deniability.”

  Shaking her head, the President said, “Everyone knows you’re connected to this administration.”

  “I admit there’s a small risk,” Elias said, “but I’ve been studying this for many years. My people have run probability after statistical probability. Everything points to the fact that only a single threat from the outside can unite us all. And the virus isn’t the kind of threat that will work. Each country thinks it can deal with that issue on its own. Without an alien invasion threat, we’ll never overcome our disunity and distrust. And there are no aliens. None that will reach Earth anyway. Any species would have to come many light years just to find us. That’s not going to happen. So we have to create the threat ourselves.”

  “If you’re wrong,” General Horowitz said, “the results could be catastrophic.”

  Elias’ heart began to race. “Only my cadets on the Moon can serve as our alien invaders. Only they can provide a sufficient level of threat to the world to unite its nations against them. They are a group without ideology, a group bent only on destruction. They can succeed in uniting the world.”

  Vice President Rodriguez said, “Excuse me. I haven’t been in on all the meetings. How did you propose to do this?”

  “By taking over the Moon and the satellite Las-cannons for starters.”

  General Horowitz shook his head.

  “Those objectives can be achieved relatively easily,” Elias said. “And they provide an off-planet threat that will serve to unite the Earth, especially by using the Las-cannons to attack select targets.”

  “The Las-cannons,” Horowitz said, “were built to destroy incoming meteors and are under the control of the United Nations. The algorithmic codes change randomly. And the quantum cryptography is completely secure. There’s no way to access them.”

  “I have a team of programmers who have already hacked into the system, leaving invisible backdoors behind. We can get in anytime we want.”