The Susquehanna Virus Box Set

by Steve McEllistrem

  She missed her old office; she missed Jack Marschenko.

  Jeremiah had asked that Gil and Finn, the Elite Ops troopers who had served as his bodyguards, be returned to regular duty, insisting he no longer needed protecting. So even though she still saw Gil occasionally, now that he was back with his fellow troopers and she was mired in problems at CINTEP or taking care of her son Jack, they had little time to spend together.

  She almost wished for a threat on Jeremiah’s life so Gil could return. No matter what Jeremiah wanted, if President Hope thought there was a credible threat against him, she would insist on bodyguards.

  As they entered the office she saw that the temporary desk next to Lendra’s had been replaced with her old one. For a moment it stopped her. Then she realized Lendra had moved it in here as a way of acknowledging that Poole belonged.

  “Thank you,” she said.

  “You’re welcome,” Lendra replied. “What’s going on with Zora, Curtik and Devereaux?”

  “What do you mean?” Jeremiah asked.

  “They’ve gone dark. Jay-Edgar?”

  Jay-Edgar sat at the communications board. Poole hadn’t noticed him. Hannah stood off to the side, watching his movements, serving as his jailer while also studying how he managed the board. On the far wall, a holo-projection of a city street played.

  Jay-Edgar pointed to the holo-projection. “This was their last known position. They completely shut off communications and cloaked the bullet. I’m not getting any kind of signature at all.”

  “Something’s not right,” Jeremiah said. “What about the drones?”

  “They broke off the attack,” said Lendra, “and flew away. We tracked them for a mile but they vanished, probably cloaking themselves. Elite Ops troopers are on the way to the bullet’s latest position.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me about the lost communications earlier?”

  “I thought it was a defensive measure. Isn’t that possible?”

  Jeremiah shrugged. “Possible, but unlikely. How long until the Elite Ops get there?”

  “One minute.”

  Jeremiah turned to Jay-Edgar and said, “What do you know about the drones?”

  “We think they were hacked from the Army.”

  “You aren’t certain?”

  “They have altered wavelength signatures, but they match the description of six drones that vanished from their hangar three hours ago—carrying the same type of weaponry—and the Army says it has no idea where the drones are.”

  “Any way to track them?”

  “Not until the Army provides us with the codes, and even then, if the hackers have modified the access codes or the tracking software, it might be tricky.”

  On the screen a bullet headed toward the spot on the street where the other bullet had disappeared. Jay-Edgar tapped into the audio.

  “No sign of the missing bullet,” a voice spoke. “If they cloaked themselves, they moved to a different location.”

  “Wait a second,” Jay-Edgar said. “The missing bullet’s turned up.”

  “Where is it?” Lendra asked.

  Jay-Edgar changed the holo-projection. A bullet sat parked on the street outside the CINTEP building. “Right out front. It just decloaked. Major Payne and Devereaux are inside.”

  “Zora and Curtik?” Jeremiah asked.

  “I don’t see them.” Jay-Edgar provided a view of the bullet’s interior. Major Payne and Devereaux sat inside, unmoving.

  “Somebody’s playing with us,” Lendra said.

  “I want to know where that bullet’s been.” Jeremiah turned back toward the door. “Hannah, you’re with me. Dr. Poole, you too.”

  Jeremiah ran, limping, to the elevator ahead of her. Hannah kept her arm out to the side, ready to catch him should he fall, but Poole knew he wouldn’t. Despite his frailty, nothing would deter Jeremiah now that he was on the hunt. He used his access code to bring the elevator to the top floor. Pulling two analysts from the car, he said “sorry” as he got in, waited for Poole and Hannah to join him, then hit the emergency drop.

  Poole’s stomach gathered in her throat, the nausea reminding her of her time on the Moon while pregnant. She managed to avoid vomiting as the car slammed to a halt. Jeremiah raced outside, Hannah right behind him. Poole followed more slowly.

  By the time she reached the bullet, Jeremiah was helping Major Payne climb out while Hannah assisted Devereaux.

  “Are you injured?” Poole asked.

  Major Payne shook his head as he stood. “A little unsteady. I don’t know what happened. Everything went black on us.”

  “Professor?” Poole asked.

  “I seem to be all right,” Devereaux said as he exited the bullet also.

  “You’re no longer in a catatonic state,” Jeremiah observed. “Are you aware that you were?”

  “It was an odd sensation,” said Devereaux. “I was able to think, but my ability to move and all my senses were shut off, as if someone else were controlling my body. My ability to communicate with the outside world vanished for several hours. I couldn’t see or hear or feel anything, as if I were nothing but intellect trapped in blackness.”

  “So you don’t know what happened to Curtik and Zora?” Jeremiah asked.

  “They must have been abducted,” said Devereaux.

  “What makes you think that?” Poole asked.

  “If they were with us as you say, it seems illogical that they would have simply stepped away from the bullet without informing us.”

  “Were any of your internal systems able to record what happened or at least note where you were the past half-hour?”

  Devereaux went still for a moment. “Sorry, no. It’s almost as if the past few hours didn’t exist for me. I did have plenty of time to think about certain problems, though you likely aren’t interested in those at the moment.”

  “Not particularly.” Jeremiah turned to Major Payne. “Can you check the onboard computers to see if there’s any way to track where you were?”

  “I just finished examining them with my implant,” Major Payne replied. “All data is missing for thirty-seven minutes.”

  Hannah said, “So Zora and Curtik are lost?”

  “They can’t be far,” Jeremiah said. “We’ll find them.”

  Poole hoped he was right, not so much for Curtik, whom she still struggled to like, but for Zora, the younger sister she would have wished for, the daughter she’d be proud to call her own. If this was the God hacker, he was playing games far beyond her ability to understand.

  Chapter 13

  Doug looked around his new quarters at the MineStar colony, a few kilometers from the Escala settlement. The room was tiny, only large enough to hold a fold-up bed, a cabinet for clothes and personal effects, and a chair. Not even a window—just a vid screen that he could load with any image or vid he wanted. If he sat on the bed, he could entertain a single visitor, not that he was expecting any. The Escala had no reason to care for him. After all, he’d brought the virus to them.

  “It won’t be so bad,” Dr. Wellon said from behind him. “There’s a fairly nice common area for the miners and since you’re all infected, you needn’t quarantine yourself in this cabin.”

  “How long do we have?” Doug asked. He’d been afraid to ask before. As he spoke, he noticed that his throat felt dry. He wondered if that was a symptom of the virus. “Weeks or months or years?”

  “I’ll talk to everyone in the commons in a few minutes.” Dr. Wellon held up her PlusPhone. “I’m still running an analysis of the scans I took, but the strain you contracted is a new one I’ve not seen before. It could take years to kill you or perhaps only weeks. I just don’t know. But I hope to find a cure before it comes to that. I intend to keep you alive for a good long time.”

  “I don’t understand how all the miners contracted it. From the re
ports I saw, it looked like it was hard to catch the virus.”

  “That used to be the case. But as I mentioned earlier, this virus is more mutable than most.”

  Dr. Wellon’s PlusPhone pinged. She looked at the screen and bit her lower lip. “Results are in,” she said. “Let’s gather in the commons.”

  Turning around, she walked out to the sitting area, where the miners waited. The foreman Enright stood as they approached. “Well, Doctor, how bad is it?”

  “Bad enough,” Dr. Wellon said. “The strain you have is a variant of SV17 and it’s quite contagious, which means you’ll no longer be able to visit our colony freely as miners in the past have done. However, it’s been a slow-acting variant to date. It’s not been aggressive so far and you’re not symptomatic, which helps explain why no one discovered you had it when you shipped up here. Perhaps only one or two of you had it to begin with, but now you’re all infected.”

  “It was him,” said Wilcox, pointing at Doug. Wilcox had been the least friendly miner on the trip to Mars, perhaps because he openly detested Devereaux. “He worked with Devereaux, and Devereaux caught the virus, so Doug musta picked it up from him and infected the rest of us.”

  “We don’t know that,” Dr. Wellon said. “It will take more tests to determine where the virus started. And for our purposes, it doesn’t really matter except for determining the likely timeline for when it might begin to assert itself symptomatically. Those of you who caught it more recently will likely have more time. But I expect you all to survive until the next MineStar ship arrives.”

  Wilcox gestured toward Doug. “We don’t want him here. Take him back to your colony.”

  Several miners murmured their agreement.

  “I’m afraid I can’t do that just yet,” Dr. Wellon said. “We don’t have a quarantine area set up. We can create such an area, of course, and place Doug there, but I should warn you—when we do, Keelar and I will be focusing on him and not you.”

  “Are you saying you won’t treat us?” Enright asked.

  “I’m saying our priorities will be with Doug. You have med-tech units sent by your employer. Doug does not. So Keelar and I won’t have much reason to visit. Your med-tech units can be programmed to treat the virus by some of the best minds on Earth.”

  “You’re abandoning us?”

  “We’ll still be available for emergencies.”

  “This is his fault,” Wilcox said as he launched himself at Doug. Two miners grabbed his arms to hold him back. “Lemme go!”

  Wilcox glared at Doug, his face dark red, as he struggled against his fellow miners. He wasn’t a large man, but Doug found himself afraid. He tried not to show it, standing his ground and staring back at Wilcox. The other miners, including the ones holding back Wilcox, glared at Doug. He’d thought he was on friendly terms with them but even Enright scowled at him.

  Maybe they were right to blame him.

  “Control yourself,” Dr. Wellon said. “Stress can only make the virus worse. Now if you’ll excuse us, Doug and I have some matters to discuss. I suggest you contact MineStar headquarters and inform them of your situation. I’ll send along a report as well. You should also visit your med-tech units soon. I’ve sent them my diagnosis so they’ll be able to treat you accordingly.”

  She gestured for Doug to lead the way to his quarters. He opened the door and stepped inside. As she followed him in, she closed the door behind her.

  “You don’t have to create a quarantine space for me,” Doug said. “I can stay with the miners.

  Dr. Wellon frowned. “I admit I hoped you could stay here. It would make things easier if you were all together. But they clearly don’t want you around. That’s fine. We care for our own.”

  Doug felt a catch in his throat. His chest grew warm and tingly. He wondered if she was serious and if the Escala sincerely considered him to be one of them. He had, after all, inserted himself into their colony. Perhaps they didn’t really want him but were doing this out of a sense of duty. No matter. He still felt encouraged by her words.

  “Thank you,” he said.

  “You’re welcome. You belong to us. You always will. Zeriphi will see that in time.”

  He hoped, but he didn’t believe. How many times had Quekri told him his DNA profile wasn’t a match for the genetic surgery necessary to turn him into one of them? Surely they could have found a way if they wanted him. “Do you think it was me? Do you think I infected them on the way up here?”

  “It’s possible,” Dr. Wellon said. “But it’s not your fault if you did. You didn’t know you had the virus.”

  “I don’t understand how they didn’t catch it before we left.”

  Dr. Wellon shrugged. “It’s possible it wasn’t you at all. One of the miners might have been infected. Their medical exams are less rigorous than the one you took.”

  “I still don’t understand how the virus could be missed by any medical exam.”

  “It’s microscopic and it might not express itself in a particular blood sample. At any rate, don’t blame yourself. I should probably get back. Do you have any questions before I go?”

  Doug nodded. “It seems like you’re being a little vague about the virus. The treatments, the timeline, the symptoms—you haven’t told me much so far. Is that because you don’t want me to worry or because you don’t know very much about this strain?”

  “A little of both, I’m afraid.” Dr. Wellon shrugged. “This is a relatively new strain and we don’t yet know how quickly it will activate itself. I don’t want you to worry because increased stress might activate the virus sooner.”

  “You said that to Wilcox. Is that something that’s happened with SV17 before? Is this one of the strains that might stay hidden for a while, targeting all my major organs so that it can hit them all at once?”

  Dr. Wellon smiled. “You worked for Devereaux. Yes, that’s one possible outcome he posited for SV17, though we don’t know for certain.”

  Dr. Wellon’s PlusPhone chimed. She looked down at it and then back at Doug. “Good news. Keelar says Celestia shows no trace of the virus.”

  Doug felt lighter, as if gravity had suddenly decreased enough for him to float away. He hadn’t realized how tense he’d been. “That’s great. Thanks.”

  “We’ll get working on the quarantine area right away. You’ll have to be here a few days. Let us know if the miners give you any trouble and we’ll come running.”

  As Dr. Wellon exited his quarters and made her way to the airlock, Doug glanced out into the commons. Several miners stood there, staring at him through the open doorway, rigidly erect, brows furrowed, saying nothing. After a minute, he closed and locked the door.

  Chapter 14

  Curtik wished that God—if it was God—had brought his mother instead of Zora’s parents. He still couldn’t believe she had rejected them. Was she right? Were they just a construct? He would have loved to find out. If he’d been given the chance to speak with his mother, to hug her, he never would have turned it down. He couldn’t imagine anyone having the willpower to do that. It was inhuman.

  “We should see if there’s a way out of here,” Zora said.

  Curtik smiled. “A way out of the Garden of Eden?”

  “What’s really going on with you and all the religion talk?”

  “I don’t know,” Curtik replied as they began to make their way forward, following a path that meandered through flowers and shrubs. “Life just seemed so meaningless. I wasn’t happy and I couldn’t figure out my purpose—why I was here. And then this God appeared and seemed to provide an answer of sorts. I don’t know if it’s the right answer or the only answer, but it gives meaning to everything if there’s a God who’s in charge, who created us and loves us and wants us to fulfill our greatest potential.”

  “How is that different from Walt Devereaux? He wants us to fulfill our potential too.�
��

  “But he’s not God,” Curtik said. “He doesn’t believe in God, so if God exists, then Devereaux doesn’t know what he’s talking about and why should I listen to him? Sure, he’s smart, but if there really is a God, and Devereaux never figured that out, then what else has he screwed up?”

  “But, come on. God?”

  “Why are you so against the idea?”

  Zora stopped for a moment and looked around. “Everything is flat,” she said.

  “So?”

  “So it’s not real or there would be hills.”

  Behind Zora a hill rose in the distance without making a sound. Curtik laughed.

  “What?”

  He pointed to the hill.

  “Come on.” Zora grabbed his arm and made for the hill. She picked up her pace, winding past flowers of many hues, brilliant and sweet smelling. “I just don’t believe,” Zora continued as they began to climb, “that this person or group is God. I mean, if God exists, would he play games like this? Would he talk to only a few select people? Would he give only some people the answer and depend on them to provide it to the rest of us? Why not tell everyone? And why does he want us to worship him anyway? Why does he need that? Why does he care?”

  As they crested the hill, Devereaux appeared before them and the air felt suddenly warmer.

  “All good questions,” he said.

  Curtik looked out over the land below them—garden as far as he could see. Clouds decorated the sky. Birds continued to sing. A squirrel disappeared behind a tree that Curtik hadn’t noticed before, almost as if the tree had suddenly appeared to give the squirrel a place to climb.

  “Are you Devereaux or God?” Curtik asked.

  “I’m both,” Devereaux replied.

  “So what are the answers to my questions?” Zora asked.

  “I play games because I find them interesting,” Devereaux said. “I’m curious as to how humans will react. I talk to a few select people to see if they will listen, to see if they will forward my message on to the rest of the world.”