The Susquehanna Virus Box Set

by Steve McEllistrem

  “We’re losing him,” the third surgeon-technician said. “His heart’s going into full arrest and his blood vessels are starting to rupture.”

  “Keep him alive,” Lendra said. “Whatever it takes.”

  Whatever it takes. Zora looked at Curtik, recalling that kind of fanaticism from last year, when a programmed compulsion directed them to attack Earth. Curtik shook his head with a sad smile. She wanted to hate Lendra, for lots of reasons. In fact, she was pretty sure she did. But she wasn’t sure Lendra was wrong about this. It was just so unfair. Devereaux and Jeremiah were always being asked to give more than everyone else.

  “We can’t continue the process without knowing if we should modify the filter,” Dr. Tanaka said. “Or how. If we’re wrong, or if we don’t use the proper series of electro-magnetic pulses, we might effectively abort the procedure, leaving a series of disjointed memories adrift in a directionless mind.”

  “Look at the screen,” the surgeon-technician said, pointing to a rapidly oscillating graph. “We have to continue. He’s losing mental function with each passing minute.”

  Lendra rubbed her face, then looked at Dr. Poole, who studied Zora’s face for a moment. Finally Dr. Poole nodded. Lendra turned to Quark. He sighed and shrugged.

  “Do it,” Lendra said. “Make the modifications. Calculate the necessary electro-magnetic pulses for the filter as quickly as you can. But complete the upload as quickly as possible.”

  Dr. Poole nodded to Zora. “Good catch, Zora. That was amazing.”

  “I’m still not sure about this. You woke me too soon.”

  “We have no choice but to press on. You did what was needed.”

  Major Somers put a hand on her shoulder. “Well done, Lass.”

  She glared up at him. “Now you’re my friend?”

  He pulled his hand away. His eyes began to glisten. “My nephew was stationed in Singapore last year. During your Las-cannon attacks.”

  “Sorry,” Zora said. A hollowness hit her stomach. Curtik, she noticed, had backed up a couple paces. She didn’t point out that Curtik had been the one who fired on Singapore, against her orders. After all, she’d been in charge. She bore the responsibility for his actions.

  Curtik spoke up: “We did what they programmed us to do, Major. I’m not gonna apologize for that. But I’m sorry about your nephew.”

  “Thank you, Zora,” Lendra said through the holo-projection. Zora had forgotten Lendra and the others were still connected. “You too, Curtik and Major Somers. We’re most grateful.”

  And with that, the connection broke, Dr. Poole and Lendra vanishing into the wall. For long seconds Quark looked up into the camera at Zora. Then he nodded once, slowly, before his connection too faded away. Zora took in the tableau of Aspen and the Mars Project astronauts, still unaware of what had transpired here on Earth. She held up one hand in a wave of goodbye, then reached over and cut the final connection, leaving only a blank wall on the other side of the room.

  Chapter 21

  The transfer of Devereaux’s mind made Dr. Poole feel dirty, as if she had contributed to something horrible. Despite Devereaux’s agony, the process continued, the surgeon-technicians asking him questions that lit up certain areas of his brain at a time, copying thoughts and memories, ideas and desires, imagination and insight.

  Had Devereaux freely agreed to the procedure? Had he understood completely what was being asked of him? Poole wondered.

  Her eyes were drawn to Quark. Studying the Escala’s body language, she realized that although he loathed what he was doing, he couldn’t help himself. He loved Devereaux too deeply to allow the great man to die.

  “Are we certain this is the right thing to do?” she asked yet again.

  “No,” Lendra replied. “But it’s not as if we’re killing him. If he manages to pull through, we can destroy the copy of his mind in the robot. And if he dies, his cloned mind can help us find a cure for the virus. After that, we’ll let him decide if he wants his consciousness erased.”

  “Do you really think they’ll let him die if that’s what he decides?”

  Lendra shook her head. “We’re not planning to enslave him, Taditha. Even though he’ll be a clone inside a robot, we won’t force him to do anything he doesn’t want to do.”

  Poole refused to watch anymore. Instead, she examined footage that Jay-Edgar had retrieved from the 24-Hour Real News Network and placed on the secondary screens adjacent to the holo-projection of Devereaux’s mind transfer. For the moment, Lendra had decided to let Jay-Edgar continue his duties, though every move he made was now monitored.

  Jay-Edgar flashed another virus update on the screen, this time concerning an outbreak in Texas. Dallas, Houston and San Antonio all reported hundreds of new cases. Possibly they’d come from Central America, where the virus now progressed at a rapid pace. The streets of the cities looked deserted, San Antonio’s famed Riverwalk closed up. She spotted two men on the screen, standing beside one another in front of a business, wearing masks, staring off into the distance and shaking their heads, a table and two empty chairs before them.

  If the virus kept spreading like this, these might well be the last days of humans on Earth. Perhaps that was why she hadn’t been sleeping well lately: her subconscious knowing all along just how deadly this thing was.

  Her interface buzzed—a message from Jeremiah, asking for a moment of her time. No rush. See Jack first. Thank you, she whispered to herself.

  “Jeremiah’s asking for my assistance,” she said to Lendra as she got to her feet. Lendra waved her out and she headed to the infirmary to check on her son.

  Little Jack Marschenko Poole, although six weeks younger than Lendra’s daughter Sophie, generally had a much stronger constitution. He rarely got sick. But he was sick now. At least he hadn’t contracted the same staph infection Sophie had. The on-call infirmary doctor told her it was just a flu virus, but she still worried. What if it was some new strain of the Susquehanna Virus that the scanners improperly identified as flu? Regardless of how unlikely that was, the prospect still terrified her.

  Jack was fussing when she reached him. Picking him up, she noted how warm and heavy he felt in her arms. He’d inherited the big bones of his late father. She sat and rocked him for a while, enjoying his baby smell, until he fell asleep.

  Then she walked to Jeremiah’s office. Two unarmored Elite Ops troopers—Gil and Finn—stood vigil outside the door. They reminded her of Jack Marschenko—the man who’d briefly been her lover on the Moon: the father of her son. Had she really loved Jack or had she just been infatuated by him? Whatever that emotion had once been, it survived as love. And it intensified as time passed, strengthened by the sorrow of his death. Not that she could really blame Curtik for murdering him. Poole had been one of Curtik’s creators. She’d made him into a killer. She just hadn’t expected that he’d end up destroying perhaps her only chance at love.

  And there had been a certain justice in Curtik killing the man who had kidnapped him from his family, even if Jack Marschenko had been so programmed and conditioned, so drugged up that he couldn’t bear responsibility for his actions.

  Still, every time Poole looked at Curtik, she had to fight against hatred.

  As Poole passed between Gil and Finn, the two Elite Ops troopers smiled at her. Did they know about her affair with Jack? Probably.

  Inside Jeremiah’s office, posted on the far wall, was a copy of the Gaia Manifesto—a scathing indictment of the sins of humanity against the planet that offered nothing of value in the quest to find Susquehanna Sally.

  Jeremiah and Eli sat side by side, facing multiple screens, perusing the data they’d each gathered separately, searching for any sign of the Sally terrorists. Standing behind Jeremiah, protecting him from whatever threat Eli might present, Hannah Swenson acknowledged her entry with a nod.

  For a moment Poole simply stood ther
e, stunned by Eli’s presence. She’d seen his capture, of course, but she hadn’t yet seen him in the flesh since that happened. He looked smaller than ever, though at the same time healthier. He looked smug, happy. How could she ever have believed in his mad plan to save the world?

  “Ah, there you are, Doc,” Jeremiah said. “How’s the upload coming?”

  Eli looked at her now, still smiling: the bastard.

  “It should be finished in a couple hours,” Poole replied. “How are you feeling? How’s the pain?”

  “I barely notice it when I’m working.”

  “And Sophie?”

  “Holding her own, thanks. How’s little Jack?”

  Poole shrugged. “They say it’s just the flu.”

  “But you’re worried it might be the virus.”

  Poole nodded.

  “They tested for every strain we’ve identified so far,” Jeremiah said. “It seems unlikely he’s caught a different version.”

  “He’ll be fine,” Eli said as he pushed his chair back, seeking the position of power by placing everyone in front of him. Was that subconscious or intentional? At any rate, it didn’t work, because Hannah stopped his chair from reaching the wall, keeping herself behind him.

  “I wasn’t talking to you,” Poole said.

  Eli grinned. “I know. I’m the bad guy. But I look at what you’re doing and I find it amusing that you people think what I did was monstrous.”

  “Excuse me?” Poole asked.

  “Forcing Devereaux’s mind to continue as some kind of slave? Serving at the pleasure of Lendra and President Hope, who I’m sure distanced herself from the process for the sake of plausible deniability. And do you really believe they won’t take this opportunity to study his mind? They’ll pick it to pieces, studying his thoughts and emotions. The greatest mind since Einstein, picked apart by jackals.”

  Poole felt her stomach drop. She said, “Every precaution will be taken to ensure Devereaux’s privacy.”

  “I’m sure that’s what you believe,” Eli said. “We all start with the best of intentions. But what happens if Devereaux’s mind refuses to work for you? Will you let him walk away in his new robotic body?” Eli shook his head. “Not with all the time and expense invested in saving his ideas. Poor bastard.”

  “He offered his help.”

  “Yes. But how much was he manipulated, how much was truth and how much lies?”

  “Just because you manipulate everyone and every situation doesn’t mean that’s what’s happening here. You scheme and exploit and . . .”

  “Just like the President,” Eli replied. “And Lendra.”

  “Except that your plan killed millions. We’re trying to save billions.” Why wasn’t Jeremiah coming to her aid? Why wasn’t he stopping this conversation? It wasn’t going to aid their search for Sally.

  “I was trying to save humanity too, in my own way. I never intended that many people to die—a few thousand, at most. And, I never pulled a trigger.”

  Hannah reached her hands toward his neck, as if to strangle him.

  Poole laughed and Jeremiah smiled.

  Eli looked back at Hannah, who had pulled her hands back to her sides and was now looking straight ahead. Shaking his head, his face flushed, Eli re-focused on Poole. “You people are torturing Devereaux to save what’s left of his mind. You can try to justify it by utilitarian ideals—the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the one—but it still comes down to torture.”

  “He gave his permission.” Poole said.

  “I’m sure he did. I wonder what was in those drugs they gave him.”

  “You think he was coerced into helping?”

  “I don’t know. The point is, neither do you.”

  “I can live with my actions,” Poole said, though she wondered if she’d be able to. She still had nightmares about her time on the Moon, about her role in Jack Marschenko’s death. And Eli had played a large role in that; she hated him even more than she hated Curtik.

  “What happens if Devereaux winds up a slave to our nation’s demands? What if he loses every shred of privacy he once had? Will you rest easy then? Will you justify your actions as necessary for the greater good?”

  “Would you have us do nothing?”

  “I would have done exactly what you did,” Eli answered.

  “Then why are you—”

  “Because you think you’re better than me. And I just want you to understand that you’re not.” Eli turned to Jeremiah. “What would you have done?”

  Jeremiah shook his head. “I guess we’ll never know.”

  Eli exhaled heavily, almost a snort. “That’s a cop-out.”

  Jeremiah shrugged and then shifted his gaze back to Poole. “I think that’s enough philosophizing. We need your help, Doc. We’ve found a couple anomalies in the distribution of the virus that you might be able to explain to us.”

  “Ha!” Eli slapped his thigh. “The great warrior reduced to this . . . dear, oh dear . . . the real reason he called you, Doctor, is because he saw you sitting there with Lendra, stewing about what you’d done. I created you to be a killing machine, Jeremiah. Stone cold. Now look at you—worrying about Dr. Poole’s emotional state.” He laughed.

  Poole glanced at Jeremiah.

  “Not true,” Jeremiah said, pointing to the screens. But Hannah averted her eyes, looking out the window, as if something fascinated her out there, and Poole knew Eli was at least partly right, that Jeremiah had made the suggestion to allow her to escape from Lendra’s office.

  “Look at these distribution nodes,” Jeremiah said, “or what we presume are distribution nodes. Check out the clusters of infected areas.”

  Poole turned her attention to the screens. “All major cities around the globe.”

  “Right, as well as the whole of Indonesia, most of Pakistan and now a good chunk of Central America. However, the pattern seems somewhat random.”

  She said. “I agree.”

  “Nothing stood out,” Jeremiah said, “until we layered in a time frame for rate of infection and another time frame for each strain of virus identified, separating out newer strains from known older versions. Then we see this.”

  Jeremiah touched the screen in front of him and the clusters began to move in a pattern that started in Rochester, Minnesota, where the virus first emerged, then to a few major cities—Los Angeles, Boston and Miami, each with a slightly mutated form of the virus—then on to random cities across the world before its recent strike against Indonesia, followed by Pakistan and now Central America. In those latter three areas, the virus swept through incredibly swiftly, emerging as a much deadlier strain and devastating the local population.

  “That’s odd,” Poole said. “It’s unusual for a virus to spread from major population centers in the first world to the third world in that manner.”

  “Exactly,” Eli said. “And note that it largely avoids India and perhaps China—information is a little sketchy there. That’s counter-intuitive, unless the Sally terrorists are based there, which seems unlikely given that the virus started here in America. Jeremiah thought perhaps you might be able to explain that inconsistency.”

  Poole examined the data flow several times but saw nothing that helped her understand it. Perhaps fatigue slowed her faculties. “I’m sorry,” she finally said. “I don’t see a pattern I can identify.”

  “Well,” Jeremiah replied, “perhaps we ought to put it aside for a moment, concentrate on other things. It might come to us later. Look at this, Doc.” He brought up another screen. “I put yet another overlap onto the data, this time of actions taken by CINTEP based on leads we received. Watch the screens.”

  Poole studied the screens but noticed little of value. She shook her head and Jeremiah highlighted three action points at distribution nodes in Houston, New York and Seattle that occurred eight month
s ago, after the virus had appeared there.

  “I don’t understand,” Poole said. “Of course the action points would occur after the virus was distributed. We wouldn’t know to send people to the area until after an outbreak.”

  Eli said, “What are you getting at, Jeremiah? We looked at this already.”

  “True,” Jeremiah conceded, “but notice the time frames. As CINTEP agents arrived at each location, further outbreaks diminished rapidly, returning to a pattern of natural contagion, rather than the accelerated pattern that existed prior to their appearance.”

  Eli said, “Which means that whoever was dispersing the virus left when the CINTEP agents showed up.”

  “Exactly.”

  Poole said, “Isn’t that what we would expect?”

  “There should be a lag,” Jeremiah explained. “How did the terrorists know that CINTEP was on their trail? It looks like they ceased all activity on the same day the CINTEP agents arrived.”

  “That’s a pretty big leap,” Eli said.

  “It’s in the data you provided.” Jeremiah pointed to the screen. “The information you had Jay-Edgar hack from hospitals and patient records shows that there were three versions of the virus infecting these cities. Those strains all display symptoms in thirty-six to forty-eight hours. And new infections dropped markedly two days after the CINTEP agents arrived.”

  The answer struck Poole like a hammer blow. “Someone inside CINTEP warned them away.”

  Jeremiah nodded. “That seems to be the only logical conclusion.”

  “A traitor inside CINTEP?” Eli said. “Impossible. I vetted everyone here.”

  Poole said, “Why only those three nodes? Why nothing since?”

  “Several reasons,” Jeremiah replied. “First, Sally went into hiding—regrouping, developing new strains of the virus and seeking out new distribution nodes. She’s extremely cautious, and that process no doubt took months. Second, the more recent distribution nodes—those from the past year—originated outside the United States, where it’s more difficult for CINTEP to gain access. And third, Eli was no longer in charge of CINTEP.”