Advance Page 16

  “Yes, sir.” Vildan’s expression softened marginally. “Thank you, Dael. You will have updates every hour.”

  Dael turned to Weniell, who looked stricken. “My office. Ensign Umbahr, you have the bridge.”

  “Aye, sir.” Umbahr moved to the command chair, his face pale but composed.

  In her office, Dael motioned for Weniell to sit down in one of her visitors’ chairs. She strode over to her computer screen and paged Doc.

  “Close the door to your office, Doc. This is confidential.” Dael knew it was only a matter of time before people aboard knew something was amiss on the Rondos.

  “Done.” Doc sat down at his desk, his round face somber. Frowning enough to wrinkle half his bald scalp, he rapped his fingertips against the desktop. “So, that bad, huh?”

  Dael described the situation to Doc, including the fact that eight Espies Major crewmen were aboard the quarantined ship.

  He shook his head, which made his heavy cheeks wobble. “It had to be Spinner, right? Wherever that woman decides to go, she either brings trouble with her or finds it waiting.”

  “I hear you.” Dael opened a document on her screen and made sure Doc and Weniell could see it too. “I need you to implement cautionary measures according to regulations. Then I need to you to give me your take on the worst-case scenario.”

  Tapping his wide, flat nose twice, Doc looked like he’d rather not. “Worst-case scenario? I think you already know, sir.”

  “I need to hear it from you, for the record.”

  “We could lose the entire ship.” Doc’s eyes darkened as he ran his hand over his face. “I’ll contact my counterpart on the Rondos. I’ve had some experience with the Garazabian plague and have read some new research results.”

  “Good. Commander Weniell and I will go through the routines for handling this from our end. What incubation time are we looking at?”

  “Twenty-four to thirty-six hours. People who don’t come down with it within forty-eight hours and show antibodies are immune. That’s about ten percent of the population. Unfortunately, that includes only about one percent of the children under seven and people over eighty.” Doc looked apologetically at Dael. “Everyone who’s been aboard the Rondos during the last four days must be confined to quarters, as well as anyone they’ve been in close contact with. It’s only contagious via direct contact. Not airborne.”

  “Always something.” Dael thought about Nania, trying to mask the twitch of pain shooting through her chest. “You have the quarantined and their families on your plate as well, Doc. If you think of something we can send to the Rondos to help them, Commander Weniell will prepare unmanned probes to have on standby.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  “All right, we all know what we have to do.” Dael took a deep breath. “Dismissed.”

  The screen flickered into the Oconodian Military Crest, and Weniell stood. “I’ll be in my office if you need me, sir. How many have traveled between our ships in the magnetar shuttles, sir? Any idea?”

  “I’d say about ten or twenty per day.” Dael wished by now that Chief Engineer Korrian Heigel, the genius behind the ships and the inventor of the magnetar propulsion system, hadn’t thought of a way to travel between the ships while in the magnetar corridor. Yes, it was handy, until something like this happened. Now, they might lose the Rondos. The doc wasn’t taking everything into account. Dael shuddered. They could, if everything went to hell, lose all five ships. Another thought hit her. Even if most of the crew survived the outbreak, the impact of losing children and beloved elderly might damage morale beyond recovery.

  Decisively, Dael stood. “One thing at a time. Prepare the probes and stay connected to Doc. I will inform the rest of the fleet and make sure the other three ships also implement the same precautions. Any questions?”

  “No, sir.” Weniell seemed to find new strength. “We’ll deal with this like we do everything else. We’ll be fine, Admiral.”

  “Thank you, Tresh.” Smiling faintly, Dael appreciated his attempt at positive thinking.

  After Weniell left, she allowed herself to think about Spinner for a few moments, but even those secs were enough to make her heart shrink into a hard, painful little lump.

  “Admiral Caydoc to Tommus, Hegal, and Mugdon. Emergency 1A2D. Emergency 1A2D. This is not a drill.” Pressing her lips together, Dael threw herself into her work. Spinner was a resourceful woman. She could take care of herself and those around her.

  *

  “Fuck. Caydoc’s going to kill me.” Spinner turned to Darmiya and Calagan, trying to get used to the hazmat suit she was wearing. It wasn’t as bulky as such suits used to be, and the portable oxygen and computer console wasn’t too heavy, yet she felt claustrophobic.

  “Why? You were only doing us a favor.” Darmiya looked pale and held on to her brother’s arm. “How long before we need to top up the oxygen and change the filters in these suits?”

  “They last six hours.” Spinner rolled her shoulders. “That’s not our main concern. So far we’re doing fine. Our screening showed we’re not infected, so as long as we stay in these things, we’re good.”

  “How the hell do we use the facilities in this suit?” Calagan looked flustered. “I know, I know, intimate question, but I’ve never been in one before.”

  “You go through the airlock, remove the suit, wait for the desinfec, use the adjoined bathroom, get back in the airlock, wait for the desinfec again, don a new suit from the recycler. Easy.” Spinner crinkled her nose. “Unless you’re in a hurry.”

  “Got it.” Calagan still looked uneasy, but who wouldn’t when trapped in the middle of a plague outbreak?

  “CAG?” Another member of the Rondos crew wearing a hazmat suit showed up next to them. “You have a video call in five minutes with your admiral. Follow me.”

  “With Dael?” Spinner only noticed her slip when the name was over her lips. Luckily the young man didn’t seem to notice, but she was sure Darmiya and Calagan did. Still, they were her friends and probably not one bit surprised. “Creator of Oconodos, I’m going to get an earful.” Spinner groaned. “I shouldn’t have changed places with Gazer.”

  “We talked you into it.” Darmiya glanced at her brother. “Yes, yes. Sorry. I talked you into it.”

  “And I didn’t file the change in the computer. Well, at least Gazer’s safe with his family.” Spinner hoped Dael would see it that way. They’d spent more time together than any of the crew—apart from Helden and possibly Darmiya—realized. Apparently Spinner’s breakfast cooking had appealed to the admiral, and she kept inviting Spinner to cook in her quarters most mornings. Now, two months later, they’d reached a comfortable way of making small talk. Mainly ship’s business and interests, and never anything deeply personal.

  Spinner knew Dael was reserved, but the few times she’d glimpsed the charming, smiling, and even more beautiful woman behind the work persona, the more her own hungry heart craved something more, something deeper. She had no way of knowing if Dael reciprocated at all, but she did know how the occasional, accidental touching of hands and brushing of shoulders felt. Sometimes Spinner would lose her breath so badly she had to fake a coughing spell to buy some time for her voice to come back. Her physical reaction didn’t surprise her. The way she didn’t act on the clandestine, barely there touching was much more confusing. In the past, Spinner hadn’t thought twice about acting on an attraction. She wasn’t interested in anything lasting, that wasn’t her thing, but sex in itself was…fun. Now, she almost felt silly at how carefully, almost shyly, she responded to Dael.

  And now they had to endure an evisceration by their admiral, no doubt.

  As it turned out, Dael wasn’t angry. If anything, she seemed genuinely concerned.

  “Don’t worry, sir,” Darmiya said, her voice gushing. “We’re going to make ourselves useful. The infirmary already has more than thirty patients, some of them children, and they need the extra hands.”

  “As long a
s it is safe. I need you back here once the quarantine is lifted.” Dael looked at Spinner. “I had a grateful message from Gazer’s wife. He is also acting CAG in your absence.”

  “That will be good training for him, sir,” Spinner said diplomatically. She trusted Gazer to carry out her job without any snags.

  “I know working in the infirmary is commendable, but I also feel that Darmiya and Calagan would be more useful helping the scientists streamline the screening and the testing. That way we can expedite the search for the original contamination and get ourselves out of this situation faster.”

  “We’ll report to the science lab.” Darmiya looked longingly at Spinner. “Guess that leaves you to help out in the infirmary. Are you all right doing that?”

  “I’ll be fine. It makes sense that you guys would do more good using those enormous brains of yours to assist in the science lab. Just don’t get out of the suits.” She knew she had to emphasize this with Darmiya especially.

  “Don’t be silly.” Darmiya stuck her tongue out before she seemed to remember they were under the scrutiny of the admiral. “Sorry.”

  “Just be careful. All of you.” Dael seemed to hesitate. “Can I have a word with you in private, Commander Seclan?”

  Spinner flinched and hoped the suit masked her reaction. “Of course.” She turned to her companions. “Off you go. I’ll check in on you in a few hours.”

  Darmiya touched Spinner’s arms briefly and Calagan followed suit. “Be safe.”

  Alone in the small office area, Spinner regarded Dael with trepidation. “Yes, sir?”

  “Aniwyn, I can’t believe you’re over there.” Dael’s voice sounded oddly strangled. “I just want to ask you to do as your friends asked. Be safe.”

  “I will. I’ll be very careful. I’m sorry—no, I’m lying. I’m not sorry I’m here. I’m relieved Gazer isn’t. His family went through enough that first day when his craft malfunctioned.”

  “So you put me through this instead.” Chuckling mirthlessly, Dael shook her head. “You’re a difficult person to…to care for.”

  Spinner’s heart constricted so hard she was sure it would never relax and pump her blood again. When it did after all, it actually hurt. “You care?”

  “Of course I do.” Now Dael looked affronted, which was rather funny when she thought about it. “Would I have breakfast almost every morning with someone I didn’t care for? I don’t even see my nania that often.”

  “True.” Spinner had to get out of the room before she made a complete fool of herself and said something she couldn’t take back and would regret for all eternity. “I—I care too. You know that, right?”

  “I didn’t think you cooked for me like you do because you were bucking for a promotion, if that’s what you think.” Dael looked slightly mollified. “This is not the time, or the place, for heart-to-hearts. I merely wanted to ask you to promise me to check in every few hours. You are going to be very busy in the infirmary—way too busy—but…anyway?”

  “I promise.” That was easy. She was going to live for the moments she could see Dael’s face before this nightmare was over. “Promise me not to run yourself into the deck completely. Ah, wait. Silly me. Don’t promise.”

  “If I did I’d have to break it. It’s my job to drive myself into the deck every now and then.”

  “All right.” Spinner sighed. “I should go. You have a fleet to command.”

  “I do.” Dael raised her hand and seemed to touch the screen. “Be safe.”

  “You too.”

  As Dael’s face morphed into the military crest, Spinner took another deep breath. She knew it was only in her head that the suit felt so suffocating. Her oxygen level was at ninety percent. She had hours to go before she needed to top off. Straightening, she walked out of the office area and headed for the doors leading to the infirmary. As soon as she saw the many occupied beds, she knew this was going to be hard. So many of the patients were children.

  Chapter Nineteen

  “She needs to go on life support,” Dr. Reys, the Rondos’s CMO, a petite woman in her late fifties, barked. Her voice had become increasingly gruff as the number of patients admitted increased.

  Spinner nodded and was grateful she didn’t have to wear the hazmat suit anymore. After the screening results came back the same way three days in a row—all three times showing antibodies—she unceremoniously removed the suit and kept working without it. Dr. Reys acknowledged that Spinner must’ve come across the Garazabian plague before and developed immunity.

  Now, Spinner pulled up the arc and placed it around the patient’s head. The little girl in the bed was pale, with blotchy red and blue bruises covering her cheekbones and chest. Her breathing was labored and even stopped for ten or fifteen secs at a time. She was close to respiratory arrest.

  “Intubating.” Dr. Reys freed a tube from the arc. “Damn it, she’s so rigid already. Help me pull her head back, but be gentle.”

  Spinner pushed one hand into the curly, blond hair and placed another on the girl’s hot forehead. Carefully she tipped the child’s head back, feeling the muscles object. This in itself was frightening, as it showed how far the virus had spread. The prognosis wasn’t good.

  “Good. Exactly so.” Dr. Reys pulled out the guiding wire and attached the tube to the little girl’s face. She lifted her face to the girl’s mother, who stood at the foot of the bed hugging a soft toy. “The ventilator is breathing for Bimi. I’m administering an antiviral cocktail, which should slow the progression of the virus and help her own immune system fight it.”

  “It all went so fast,” Bimi’s mother said, tears in her voice. “She was playing with her toys, and…and then she looked up at me, all pale, but with those—are they bruises?—on her face.” Covering her mouth, the woman sobbed once, a deep, guttural sound of profound anxiety. “Did I get her here too late? Is she going to die because I didn’t notice anything until just now?”

  “You did nothing wrong,” Spinner said. “This is the nature of the beast with the Garazabian plague. It lurks for a while, getting a good foothold, and only then does it make itself known.” She placed a gentle hand on the mother’s shoulder. “Here. Why don’t you sit next to her and hold her hand. Have you been screened yet?”

  “Yes, just as soon as we were in the door.” The mother sat down on the extendable seat Spinner pulled from underneath the bed.

  “Let us know if you need anything and especially if you start feeling poorly. I’ll get back to you as soon as we get your results back.”

  “Thank you.” Bimi’s mother took her daughter’s hand in hers and rubbed it against her wet cheek. “I’m all right.”

  Dr. Reys and Spinner moved to the office area, where Spinner sat down on the edge of the desk, grabbing a mug of berry-brew. It was cold and slightly bitter, but she didn’t care. Downing the rest of it, she pressed a hand to her forehead. “Shit.”

  “Yes, exactly.”

  “What are her true chances?” Spinner said, the words scratching at her nerves.

  “I doubt Bimi will survive the night. If she has a quiet and uninterrupted sleep and her kidneys don’t cease to function, she could end up surprising us. Kids go downhill fast, but those who don’t can actually make it.”

  “That’d be a nice change.”

  “Sure would.” Reys raised her teacup in a quiet salute. “You’re a trooper, Spinner, I’ll give you that.”

  “Somehow that doesn’t sound entirely like a compliment.” Eyeing the stern surgeon, Spinner rinsed out her mug and then drank some water.

  “I guess I have the same image of you as many of my peers do. You have a reputation for being insubordinate at times, ready to gamble and party, and…not quite CAG material.”

  The hurt was about to explode behind Spinner’s eyes, and she already detested the threatening tears. Shit. She found a way to get to me when I’m fatigued out of my mind, didn’t she?

  “That’s why I’m delighted that you’re proving all of us wr
ong, time after time,” Reys said, studying Spinner over the rim of her mug. “And it’s also why nobody would dare criticize your performance in front of the admiral.” She snorted softly. “They better not try to do so either, the way I hear it.”

  Spinner swallowed. And swallowed. “So, despite my fun-loving ways, I make a decent soldier, you mean?” She did her best to grin broadly, something that normally came so easily to her. Now, her lips trembled and she wondered if her smile looked as watery as it felt.

  “No, that’s not what I mean at all. I’d say you’re an exemplary soldier.” Standing up, Reys placed her cup in the sink. “Don’t let anyone tell you differently. Time to get back to work.”

  Spinner put her mug away as well and followed the surgeon out into the infirmary ward. Nurses, medics, and orderlies moved between the beds in an almost ghostlike fashion. Everybody was wearing soundproof-sole shoes, trying to disturb the patients as little as possible.

  Glancing over at Bimi’s bed, Spinner frowned. Her mother looked exhausted where she was resting her head next to Bimi’s on the pillow, but…something was odd about how still she was. Had she managed to fall asleep in that awkward position?

  Spinner tiptoed over to the bed and rounded it. Looking down at Bimi’s mother, she flinched. Her lips were dark blue and her complexion colorless. There might have still been hope of life if the mother’s eyes hadn’t been half open, unblinking, with a milky white film covering the pupils.

  “Dr. Reys.” Spinner stood and waved the doctor over.

  “Her vitals are all right,” Reys said, only to frown when Spinner just shook her head. She hurried over and placed her scanner on the mother’s left temple. “Damn,” she whispered, and for a fleeting moment, Spinner saw the toll it took on this woman to do this job. “She claimed she was fine.”