Agreed. Father of Tides still owes Selkirk big time, the humans took a big risk in allowing him and his entourage a closeup tour of their sanctuary (Like Selkirk noted, it could well have been a chance for them to discover the colony's weaknesses). The Sea Emperor has good reason to be wary around humans but you'd think he in turn would be more trusting of the alien who freed him.
Of course, he and the Warpers are radically different from humans and would have an entirely different way of thinking. Simply allowing the Torgalijin descendants to return to the surface might've fulfilled any debt in their eyes.
Deliberately releasing the Kharaa sample in front of them, though? It might've convinced them that their Enemy is there but it's left a very bad impression.
Yeah, in retrospect, he should have told the Father of Tides that he had "make shell for some of seeds of Enemy in Dark Place, seeds cannot swim free, this one break shell, show Father of Tides?"
Father of Tides reared high above me. His expression could only be described as 'stern'. The Warpers had me completely boxed in by now, each one less than three metres away. Their talons poised, an unspoken threat simmering in the water around us.
"You are Unclean." He gestured curtly. "Enemy seeds are growing. We burn Enemy." He lunged forward, his jaws agape. I was totally unprepared for a viscous attack of this magnitude.
Aye, that damned stuff is stickier than activated epoxy resin. Wherever it hit, it most emphatically stuck. Father of Tides hosed me down from head to foot with a torrent of enzyme-laced mucus, covering my entire body with a thick layer of fluorescent yellow-green gunge. It was like being blasted by a high-pressure fire hose charged with warm library paste... Only slightly less enjoyable.
There was absolutely no malice in it. I received a distinct impression that he was treating me like a mucky wee pup who had rolled in something rather unsavoury. It's bath-time for Greyfriars Bobby.
Beneath my thick coating of goop, I grinned broadly. You beauty. That's exactly what I wanted.
Working quickly, I wrestled my backpack off and withdrew the first sample container, scraping its wide mouth along my left arm to collect the enzyme. I had sixteen one-litre containers in the pack, figuring that would be more than enough for this job. I might miss a few patches that I can't quite reach, but one of the crew would lend a hand when I finally returned to Ulysses.
It took more than half an hour to harvest the enzyme plastered all over me. I would have given a handful of diamonds for one of those sweat-scrapers ancient Romans used in lieu of soap. Yes, a strigil would have been mighty handy, but there's never a Roman bath-house around when you need one. Eventually, I looked less like a giant lime jelly-baby and more like a human-form android again. My dive suit's most likely a complete write-off by now, although I was pleased to note that the enzyme had not attacked my polymer-based skin. The Warpers had withdrawn to a less threatening distance, leaving Father of Tides to watch my strange antics with a kind of bemused interest.
"You are Clean, Father of Shells. Swim free." He gestured solemnly.
Obviously, the word 'clean' only applies to my current pathogen-free status. Unless this gunk completely bio-degrades after a certain period of time, my suit is definitely history. Oh well, best to treat this minor mishap as another parameter in our scientific observation of this enzyme.
I cleared a particularly tenacious smudge of enzyme from the suit's holo-emitter lens. Warper is up.
"The Lost Ones thank Father of Tides. His passing cleanses us all." I signed humbly.
This shamelessly borrowed accolade seemed to please Him no end. There were a few moments there that could have gone horribly pear-shaped, although He was quite gracious about this whole affair in the end. After exchanging farewells, the Warpers vanished as suddenly as they had appeared. His work done, Father of Tides turned slowly about, swimming off to wherever He called home. Just before He passed into the green gloom beyond, Father of Tides turned back and signed.
"Speak with The Slow Ones. They have strongest life-stuff to burn Enemy. Much power. Swim free."
Umm. You had a better idea? He's basically got a disposable body. Might lose a few hours to fab a new one. Big deal. I'm sure (well I would have if I was him) he did a backup right before heading out. Easy-peasy.
The big question comes with getting the Father of Tides to see reason after collecting Enzyme 42. Wouldn't do to have him on your bad side (and not sure how that would affect the new colony, as well).
Honestly, if I were Selkirk, I'd give the Father of Tides a little (respectful) dressing-down. Selkirk freed Father of Tides, and has been nothing if not a problem-solver for all sides here. A little trust is warranted, and Father of Tides did basically refuse to listen when Selkirk was trying to fix a problem that would affect all parties involved. Selkirk's got the attitude for that, and Father of Tides has it coming. He done goofed. Father of Tides, that is. Selkirk shouldn't have to work around Father of Tides to help Father of Tides, that's just counter-productive.
What both sides could use would be official ambassadors who take time to intermingle with the inner circle of the others, and learn their ways.
I mean, I know the humans are packing up and all, but 1) they've still got a ways to go and 2) as fast as life is progressing on that planet (precursor tech is obviously there already, not sure how they'd go about using it, or what happened on that planet.. a 'reset' maybe?) it's probably not going to be too long before you have them surfing the stars, or at least guarding their own solar system from incursion. The big gun obviously isn't impervious, too many ships have made it through. What if enough of the Aurora had survived and the other yahoos had activated the STARFISH? Or what if no one had been around to patch up the Aurora's leaking nuclear bits? The planet's inhabitants could obviously use at least being part of a treaty or somesuch where they agree to co-operate, and can leave the treaty if a terrible disagreement comes up in the future.
I dunno, IMHO they're wasting a lot of effort by not cooperating. The humans could use more workers for their ship building project. The locals could use some knowledge regarding working with tools and building things.
You can always have a radial third party enter the fray later on or something. Maybe a alien race sets up in an isolated corner or the planet and starts sabotaging the other 2's dealings or something.
Bah, I'm rambling. Comes of too long waiting for Bugzapper's next bit of story (j/k, I know you can't force these things to come out, I don't know how paid writers under contract do it, that has to take all the fun out of writing I'd think).
Anyways.
Regarding the locals helping Selkirk, in the previous story Bugzapper had explained that Selkirk didn't want to influence there evolution to rapidly.. teaching them to use tools or how to build advanced tech could and would cause them to skip multiple crucial step in how they evolve.
And Selkirk has done nothing but respect and honor the father of tides, and to pay Selkirk back for saving his life the good ol' father gave him safe passage in his waters, allowing Selkirk to not only survive but thrive
Man all this waiting is killing ne. We a need more.. And a countdown ticking for new updates
No seriously don't to want stress yu but We raise the viewscounter just to check for more very frequently
Ten minutes later, I entered Ulysses' quarantine lock. Most of the uncollected enzyme had dissipated during the swim back, and what little residue remained was hardly worth collecting. That's one question answered, at least. As for the Gasopods, I'm fairly certain that I won't have to resort to florid speeches in order to get what we need from them. Even so, it might be worth exchanging a few words, if only to establish some sort of amiable rapport in future. Getting them to drop their gas pods is the easy part. You only have to swim close enough to make them feel sufficiently threatened. The rest comes rather naturally to them.
Unlike Father of Tides. It might have seemed that I pulled a dirty trick to get a sample of Enzyme 42, although it was more a case of supplying an appropriate stimulus to trigger His enzyme production. Father of Tides can't release the enzyme on command. There has to be an actual need for it to be secreted. Simple biology.
Yes, it could have gone horribly wrong. That was a risk I was fully prepared to take. Had events progressed beyond my ability to control them, the colonists would have been safe from almost anything Father of Tides mustered to throw against them. Even Rock Punchers.
After activating the tau-muon field salvaged from the Lava Castle, Kaori-san no-shima would be completely immune to Warper attacks. In a genuine worst-case scenario, this would have been the opening move in the colony's defence strategy. Next, all repulsion cannons would come online in full MARTIAL mode. Anything that doesn't transmit the correct IFF squawk instantly becomes a drifting cloud of organic matter. Should events escalate beyond that point, JUNO will send in the ExoSuits. There are sufficient materials stored the base to manufacture as many units as may be necessary to complete the mission. Fabricator gantries in each of the base's six moon pools can pump out a combat-ready Mk. V ExoSuit every 45 seconds, and each one will come out fighting.
Believe it.
If all else fails, there are four Cyclops-class submarines poised to sweep every living thing from the ocean with TRIDENT sonar arrays. Peace will reign once more; albeit one bought at a terrible cost.
This is the sort of thing you never want to think about, even as a hypothetical exercise. However, this is also the reality humanity must face as it walks under alien skies. Even the faintest whiff of danger cannot pass unheeded. Every possible contingency must be addressed before we can permit ourselves the luxury of feeling (relatively) secure. Even then, there are no absolute guarantees.
I opened the airlock hatch and stepped into the cramped laboratory module. JUNO looked up briefly and nodded a curt greeting, then returned her gaze to the micro-scanner's holographic display.
"So, how did your meeting with Father of Tides go, Sir?" IANTO grinned.
"You know bloody-well how it went, you great numpty. He slimed me." I muttered sourly, handing him the backpack full of enzyme samples. "And on that distasteful note... Egon, your mucus."
"Excellent work, Sir. I shall commence fabricating the dermal patches and IV solutions immediately."
"Good man. I'll drop them off with DIGBY before catching some downtime. I need a wee break."
Yeah, congrats on getting a really paying job. What's IT like being new there?
(if I recall you volunteered before so)
Well, those new-fangled punch-cards are really tricky to sort into correct order...
I'm kidding. I've been mainly involved with desktop PCs before. Notebooks and tablets are a new thing for me.
Very fiddly and remarkably fragile to work with, but I'm picking up some clues with each one I work on.
Haven't fried anything yet, touch wood. That has to count for something.
The base was eerily quiet. Instead of the usual background hum of conversation and colonists going about their daily affairs, I was greeted by an almost palpable sensation of fear and desolation upon entering the base's central corridor. According to JUNO and IANTO's estimates, more than 95 per cent of the colonists would be infected by now, and it wouldn't be long before the earliest cases started to exhibit Stage Two symptoms. This is the point where the Kharaa plague definitely makes its presence known. You can't write off oozing open sores as a 'moderately severe' allergic reaction.
IANTO's first batch of treatment derms and IV solution packs were safely in hand. The fabrication process had taken slightly longer than anticipated, but as IANTO pointed out, some things are best not hurried. My greatest worry was that the fabrication process would somehow alter or deactivate the enzyme. However, results from the first sequence of in vitro trials indicated that the enzyme would remain stable long enough for its full effect to be brought to bear on the virus. The treatment regime IANTO had devised lasted a week in total, since the dosages had to be scaled down to accommodate human physiology, most particularly in the case of immune-suppressed patients. It's a delicate business. We can't simply drench folks in Enzyme 42 and congratulate ourselves on a job well done. That virus is busily subverting human DNA every second that it's in a human body. The real trick is to destroy the virus without harming the patient. With a curative agent as potent as this, a fine balance has to be maintained.
At first, I thought that the Bridge was completely deserted. Only the sound of air-circulation fans and a subdued hum of operating hardware filled the air. On entering the module, I found Enzo Savini slumped over his console; alive, but barely conscious. Obviously, the poor bugger had doggedly remained at his post while his mates dropped like flies around him.
I activated my commlink. "DIGBY, bring a gurney to the Bridge, stat. Got another patient for you."
"On my way, Sir." DIGBY responded.
I couldn't help but feel sympathy for this particular chap. During our first meeting, I remember bawling him out for his apparently slipshod approach to the job. Now, I find him like this. That's a guy who knows how to make a smart about-turn. I opened the insulated storm-case containing the Enzyme 42 derms and withdrew one. After swabbing the skin on his upper arm with an isopropyl alcohol wipe, I attached the transdermal treatment patch and waited for DIGBY to arrive.
Forty-five seconds later, DIGBY arrived. I gave him a hand transferring Enzo to the gurney, then stepped back while he ran a medical scanner over Enzo's whole body.
"I'm afraid he's in moderately poor shape, Sir. Still in Stage One, thankfully. As you can see from the medi-scanner readings, the Enzyme 42 dermal patch is already taking effect, although he will still need to undertake a full course of treatment before he is considered fit to return to duty."
I grinned. "Not a problem. As far as I'm concerned, Enzo can spend a whole month convalescing in Margaritaville when he's back on his feet again. He's done a real job of work here today, hanging on as long as he did... Pity Alterra's a civilian outfit, and I'm only a pretend Captain. That's definitely worth a field promotion."
DIGBY smiled warmly. "I beg to differ, Captain. There is nothing 'pretend' about your command methods. You are indeed worthy of that title. It is our distinct pleasure to be serving at your side."
SkopeWouldn't you like to know ;)Join Date: 2016-06-07Member: 218212Members
I've been reading this story and Aurora Falls since near the beginning, and now that I've worked up the courage to comment on this story, here's what I have to say. This is one of the best works of writing I've read in a very long time. Bugzapper, please continue on this amazing story. And please continue giving us scientific descriptions that few of us understand, those parts are my favorite.
"I'm just lucky to have scored a damn fine crew. If it wasn't for you three, I honestly wouldn't have survived the first time around. There's a distinct probability I would have gone completely barmy within the first six months." I admitted.
"Again, I would respectfully have to disagree, Sir. You are mentally stronger than you are prepared to admit. While your command style is somewhat... unorthodox, you have constantly demonstrated a commendable degree of competence, particularly when confronted by some of the most unusual circumstances ever faced by a single human. You have our complete confidence, Captain."
I chuckled uncomfortably. "Och, awa' with ye, man. I'm fair fit to start blushing."
DIGBY finished prepping Enzo for transit to the Med Bay. If conditions were as bad as JUNO's projections said they'd be, a pair of extra hands would be mighty welcome. Downtime can wait.
"DIGBY, I'll need a current readout of the colony's medical status. If you need assistance, I can start by administering the initial doses. Incidentally, how many med-techs are still on their feet?"
"None, Sir." DIGBY replied gravely. "The infection rate progressed more rapidly among the colony's medical staff, in spite of having stringent infection control measures in place. The causative organism is exceptionally virulent, as you are undoubtedly aware."
I nodded. "Aye. Now's as good a time as any to start. Since there's a stability issue with the raw enzyme, I can't spare JUNO or IANTO at the moment. Our best bet is to get all of the colonists on the treatment as quickly as possible. Keep me apprised of the situation as it develops."
"Very well, Sir. As soon as I have Mister Savini's condition stabilised, I'll be joining you. I strongly advise that you commence treating all potential Stage Two patients first. I've just transmitted the correct procedure for administering and calibrating IV medications to your active file system, so you shouldn't have any difficulty performing this operation."
"Good catch, DIGBY. I was hoping to download a full medical and biochemistry skill-set during my next scheduled offline period, but this should be enough info to be going on with. I'll see you later."
Although my natural reaction was to check on Héloise's condition first, the brutal logic of triage over-ruled that decision. I haven't seen or spoken to her at all during the past 48 hours. According to DIGBY's readout, she collapsed approximately six hours ago. Early-stage infection and sheer fatigue simply knocked the legs out from under her. From what I can gather, she had been assisting the remaining Med Techs when it happened. She had already been on deck for at least eighteen hours straight before keeling over. Fell without uttering a single word of complaint. No surprises there.
All infected colonists have been made as comfortable as possible. Before we had access to the enzyme, the only treatments the crew could provide were painkillers and heavy sedation. Cryostasis appears to have no appreciable effect on the Kharaa virus, indicating that it possesses some truly frightening properties. It continues to function, even at temperatures close to zero degrees Kelvin. Engineered for deep-space survival.
Even so, the crew and I are about to kick that infernal bug squarely in the fork. As soon as the colonists are safe, I'm going to look into what the Gasopods can offer. Their version of Enzyme 42 is incredibly toxic to human physiology, but it might be just the ticket for destroying Kharaa infestations on a planetary scale. Time for some pest control.
@nauticalperana Think you could have spammed any more lol? This is not the place sorry. I thought it was funny, but it should have been compressed into 1 or 2 comments, not like 15. If you want to do what you did then the discord server is the place for you! Feel free to join us if you haven't already: https://discordapp.com/channels/85342800492634112/85342800492634112
Isn't that advertising ?
Also Ima deleting my account you guys won't ever hear from Me again
Comments
Of course, he and the Warpers are radically different from humans and would have an entirely different way of thinking. Simply allowing the Torgalijin descendants to return to the surface might've fulfilled any debt in their eyes.
Deliberately releasing the Kharaa sample in front of them, though? It might've convinced them that their Enemy is there but it's left a very bad impression.
Or something.
"You are Unclean." He gestured curtly. "Enemy seeds are growing. We burn Enemy." He lunged forward, his jaws agape. I was totally unprepared for a viscous attack of this magnitude.
Aye, that damned stuff is stickier than activated epoxy resin. Wherever it hit, it most emphatically stuck. Father of Tides hosed me down from head to foot with a torrent of enzyme-laced mucus, covering my entire body with a thick layer of fluorescent yellow-green gunge. It was like being blasted by a high-pressure fire hose charged with warm library paste... Only slightly less enjoyable.
There was absolutely no malice in it. I received a distinct impression that he was treating me like a mucky wee pup who had rolled in something rather unsavoury. It's bath-time for Greyfriars Bobby.
Beneath my thick coating of goop, I grinned broadly. You beauty. That's exactly what I wanted.
Working quickly, I wrestled my backpack off and withdrew the first sample container, scraping its wide mouth along my left arm to collect the enzyme. I had sixteen one-litre containers in the pack, figuring that would be more than enough for this job. I might miss a few patches that I can't quite reach, but one of the crew would lend a hand when I finally returned to Ulysses.
It took more than half an hour to harvest the enzyme plastered all over me. I would have given a handful of diamonds for one of those sweat-scrapers ancient Romans used in lieu of soap. Yes, a strigil would have been mighty handy, but there's never a Roman bath-house around when you need one. Eventually, I looked less like a giant lime jelly-baby and more like a human-form android again. My dive suit's most likely a complete write-off by now, although I was pleased to note that the enzyme had not attacked my polymer-based skin. The Warpers had withdrawn to a less threatening distance, leaving Father of Tides to watch my strange antics with a kind of bemused interest.
"You are Clean, Father of Shells. Swim free." He gestured solemnly.
Obviously, the word 'clean' only applies to my current pathogen-free status. Unless this gunk completely bio-degrades after a certain period of time, my suit is definitely history. Oh well, best to treat this minor mishap as another parameter in our scientific observation of this enzyme.
I cleared a particularly tenacious smudge of enzyme from the suit's holo-emitter lens. Warper is up.
"The Lost Ones thank Father of Tides. His passing cleanses us all." I signed humbly.
This shamelessly borrowed accolade seemed to please Him no end. There were a few moments there that could have gone horribly pear-shaped, although He was quite gracious about this whole affair in the end. After exchanging farewells, the Warpers vanished as suddenly as they had appeared. His work done, Father of Tides turned slowly about, swimming off to wherever He called home. Just before He passed into the green gloom beyond, Father of Tides turned back and signed.
"Speak with The Slow Ones. They have strongest life-stuff to burn Enemy. Much power. Swim free."
The Slow Ones. Gasopods?
You're kidding.
Regarding the locals helping Selkirk, in the previous story Bugzapper had explained that Selkirk didn't want to influence there evolution to rapidly.. teaching them to use tools or how to build advanced tech could and would cause them to skip multiple crucial step in how they evolve.
And Selkirk has done nothing but respect and honor the father of tides, and to pay Selkirk back for saving his life the good ol' father gave him safe passage in his waters, allowing Selkirk to not only survive but thrive
No seriously don't to want stress yu but We raise the viewscounter just to check for more very frequently
I've just started a new job (IT support, field service), so the story has been on temporary hiatus. More to come.
SOON.
New page tonight.
Unlike Father of Tides. It might have seemed that I pulled a dirty trick to get a sample of Enzyme 42, although it was more a case of supplying an appropriate stimulus to trigger His enzyme production. Father of Tides can't release the enzyme on command. There has to be an actual need for it to be secreted. Simple biology.
Yes, it could have gone horribly wrong. That was a risk I was fully prepared to take. Had events progressed beyond my ability to control them, the colonists would have been safe from almost anything Father of Tides mustered to throw against them. Even Rock Punchers.
After activating the tau-muon field salvaged from the Lava Castle, Kaori-san no-shima would be completely immune to Warper attacks. In a genuine worst-case scenario, this would have been the opening move in the colony's defence strategy. Next, all repulsion cannons would come online in full MARTIAL mode. Anything that doesn't transmit the correct IFF squawk instantly becomes a drifting cloud of organic matter. Should events escalate beyond that point, JUNO will send in the ExoSuits. There are sufficient materials stored the base to manufacture as many units as may be necessary to complete the mission. Fabricator gantries in each of the base's six moon pools can pump out a combat-ready Mk. V ExoSuit every 45 seconds, and each one will come out fighting.
Believe it.
If all else fails, there are four Cyclops-class submarines poised to sweep every living thing from the ocean with TRIDENT sonar arrays. Peace will reign once more; albeit one bought at a terrible cost.
This is the sort of thing you never want to think about, even as a hypothetical exercise. However, this is also the reality humanity must face as it walks under alien skies. Even the faintest whiff of danger cannot pass unheeded. Every possible contingency must be addressed before we can permit ourselves the luxury of feeling (relatively) secure. Even then, there are no absolute guarantees.
"Decontamination cycle complete, Captain. Welcome aboard." IANTO said.
I opened the airlock hatch and stepped into the cramped laboratory module. JUNO looked up briefly and nodded a curt greeting, then returned her gaze to the micro-scanner's holographic display.
"So, how did your meeting with Father of Tides go, Sir?" IANTO grinned.
"You know bloody-well how it went, you great numpty. He slimed me." I muttered sourly, handing him the backpack full of enzyme samples. "And on that distasteful note... Egon, your mucus."
"Excellent work, Sir. I shall commence fabricating the dermal patches and IV solutions immediately."
"Good man. I'll drop them off with DIGBY before catching some downtime. I need a wee break."
(if I recall you volunteered before so)
Well, those new-fangled punch-cards are really tricky to sort into correct order...
I'm kidding. I've been mainly involved with desktop PCs before. Notebooks and tablets are a new thing for me.
Very fiddly and remarkably fragile to work with, but I'm picking up some clues with each one I work on.
Haven't fried anything yet, touch wood. That has to count for something.
IANTO's first batch of treatment derms and IV solution packs were safely in hand. The fabrication process had taken slightly longer than anticipated, but as IANTO pointed out, some things are best not hurried. My greatest worry was that the fabrication process would somehow alter or deactivate the enzyme. However, results from the first sequence of in vitro trials indicated that the enzyme would remain stable long enough for its full effect to be brought to bear on the virus. The treatment regime IANTO had devised lasted a week in total, since the dosages had to be scaled down to accommodate human physiology, most particularly in the case of immune-suppressed patients. It's a delicate business. We can't simply drench folks in Enzyme 42 and congratulate ourselves on a job well done. That virus is busily subverting human DNA every second that it's in a human body. The real trick is to destroy the virus without harming the patient. With a curative agent as potent as this, a fine balance has to be maintained.
At first, I thought that the Bridge was completely deserted. Only the sound of air-circulation fans and a subdued hum of operating hardware filled the air. On entering the module, I found Enzo Savini slumped over his console; alive, but barely conscious. Obviously, the poor bugger had doggedly remained at his post while his mates dropped like flies around him.
I activated my commlink. "DIGBY, bring a gurney to the Bridge, stat. Got another patient for you."
"On my way, Sir." DIGBY responded.
I couldn't help but feel sympathy for this particular chap. During our first meeting, I remember bawling him out for his apparently slipshod approach to the job. Now, I find him like this. That's a guy who knows how to make a smart about-turn. I opened the insulated storm-case containing the Enzyme 42 derms and withdrew one. After swabbing the skin on his upper arm with an isopropyl alcohol wipe, I attached the transdermal treatment patch and waited for DIGBY to arrive.
Forty-five seconds later, DIGBY arrived. I gave him a hand transferring Enzo to the gurney, then stepped back while he ran a medical scanner over Enzo's whole body.
"I'm afraid he's in moderately poor shape, Sir. Still in Stage One, thankfully. As you can see from the medi-scanner readings, the Enzyme 42 dermal patch is already taking effect, although he will still need to undertake a full course of treatment before he is considered fit to return to duty."
I grinned. "Not a problem. As far as I'm concerned, Enzo can spend a whole month convalescing in Margaritaville when he's back on his feet again. He's done a real job of work here today, hanging on as long as he did... Pity Alterra's a civilian outfit, and I'm only a pretend Captain. That's definitely worth a field promotion."
DIGBY smiled warmly. "I beg to differ, Captain. There is nothing 'pretend' about your command methods. You are indeed worthy of that title. It is our distinct pleasure to be serving at your side."
maybe earth rescue mission arrives and gets targeted by the small evil overlord gun?
Also keep up the great work
"Again, I would respectfully have to disagree, Sir. You are mentally stronger than you are prepared to admit. While your command style is somewhat... unorthodox, you have constantly demonstrated a commendable degree of competence, particularly when confronted by some of the most unusual circumstances ever faced by a single human. You have our complete confidence, Captain."
I chuckled uncomfortably. "Och, awa' with ye, man. I'm fair fit to start blushing."
DIGBY finished prepping Enzo for transit to the Med Bay. If conditions were as bad as JUNO's projections said they'd be, a pair of extra hands would be mighty welcome. Downtime can wait.
"DIGBY, I'll need a current readout of the colony's medical status. If you need assistance, I can start by administering the initial doses. Incidentally, how many med-techs are still on their feet?"
"None, Sir." DIGBY replied gravely. "The infection rate progressed more rapidly among the colony's medical staff, in spite of having stringent infection control measures in place. The causative organism is exceptionally virulent, as you are undoubtedly aware."
I nodded. "Aye. Now's as good a time as any to start. Since there's a stability issue with the raw enzyme, I can't spare JUNO or IANTO at the moment. Our best bet is to get all of the colonists on the treatment as quickly as possible. Keep me apprised of the situation as it develops."
"Very well, Sir. As soon as I have Mister Savini's condition stabilised, I'll be joining you. I strongly advise that you commence treating all potential Stage Two patients first. I've just transmitted the correct procedure for administering and calibrating IV medications to your active file system, so you shouldn't have any difficulty performing this operation."
"Good catch, DIGBY. I was hoping to download a full medical and biochemistry skill-set during my next scheduled offline period, but this should be enough info to be going on with. I'll see you later."
Although my natural reaction was to check on Héloise's condition first, the brutal logic of triage over-ruled that decision. I haven't seen or spoken to her at all during the past 48 hours. According to DIGBY's readout, she collapsed approximately six hours ago. Early-stage infection and sheer fatigue simply knocked the legs out from under her. From what I can gather, she had been assisting the remaining Med Techs when it happened. She had already been on deck for at least eighteen hours straight before keeling over. Fell without uttering a single word of complaint. No surprises there.
All infected colonists have been made as comfortable as possible. Before we had access to the enzyme, the only treatments the crew could provide were painkillers and heavy sedation. Cryostasis appears to have no appreciable effect on the Kharaa virus, indicating that it possesses some truly frightening properties. It continues to function, even at temperatures close to zero degrees Kelvin. Engineered for deep-space survival.
Even so, the crew and I are about to kick that infernal bug squarely in the fork. As soon as the colonists are safe, I'm going to look into what the Gasopods can offer. Their version of Enzyme 42 is incredibly toxic to human physiology, but it might be just the ticket for destroying Kharaa infestations on a planetary scale. Time for some pest control.
Brutal.
I'm never gone. you can never get rid of the rock puncher empire
I lied