‘And what
are
we thinking?’ Dhalere asked.
‘That we should use microwave scanners to clear us all of infection,’ Andaim replied, ‘and use those same scanners to interrogate Kyarl.’
Evelyn saw Dhalere’s dark skin pale a fraction as her dark eyes widened. ‘That could kill him and would constitute inhumane suffering.’
‘There’ll be a lot more inhumane suffering if we don’t get to the bottom of how he got infected,’ Andaim said.
‘Couldn’t it have been when he boarded this ship with General Bra’hiv?’ Dhalere asked.
‘The Word was not active until the ship was heated,’ Andaim replied, ‘which Kyarl instigated without orders. He must have already been infected beforehand, which means whoever did it was aboard the Atlantia: one of our own.’
‘But he’s not talking,’ she persisted. ‘If you scan him while he’s unconscious it will simply kill him without us learning anything. I can’t allow you to do that.’
‘It’s not a matter for you to debate,’ Andaim snapped. ‘Kyarl is a military soldier and is infected. It’s for
us
to decide.’
Dhalere appeared to tremble with indignation.
‘I insist upon being present at any interrogation,’ she said. ‘I will not have you and your men torturing and risking the life of an innocent soldier. There must be another way.’
Andaim grinned tightly as he shouldered his rifle and made for the bridge exit.
‘If there is, and you find it, let me know.’
*
Meyanna Sansin stared at the sphere of roiling nanobots as she thought deeply about what was happening aboard the Sylph.
‘You’re sure that Kyarl could not have been infected
after
he departed this ship?’ she asked.
Captain Idris Sansin stood beside his wife, likewise staring at the magnetically confined bots as he replied.
‘Almost certainly impossible,’ he said. ‘Bra’hiv’s Marines voluntarily submitted themselves to the full microwave scan during their training. The general felt it essential to ensure that all personnel tasked with the defence of the ship were vetted in that way. All passed. Kyarl was infected aboard Altantia by somebody else before he was despatched.’
‘Which means that somebody else is the carrier,’ Meyanna said.
‘How many of our people have you tested?’ the captain asked.
‘All of our staff and about a quarter of the civilians,’ she replied and then sighed mightily, ‘and all of it for nothing. All scans will have to be repeated if somebody slipped through.’
The captain thought for a moment as he looked at the ball of bots.
‘Andaim intends to interrogate Kyarl using microwaves, to threaten the bots infecting him with destruction if they do not comply.’
Meyanna shot her husband a shocked look. ‘That would cause him unspeakable pain and…’
‘I know,’ Idris said, his eyes closing briefly. ‘But we don’t have much choice. It’s clear that whoever is infected among us can only have managed to pass that infection on to one or two people at most. We need to shut this down before one or two people becomes five, or ten, or one hundred. We don’t have the time for niceties, Meyanna. Andaim needs the frequencies so they can tune whatever scanners they have aboard the Sylph.’
Meyanna sighed and turned to a cabinet on one wall of her laboratory, opening it and retrieving a data–pad that she handed to her husband.
‘The frequencies are all recorded there,’ she said. ‘If they’re lucky they might be able to tune with sufficient accuracy to target the bots’ internal circuitry only, saving Kyarl any pain and focusing only on the Legion.’
Idirs hefted the data–pad thoughtfully.
‘Can’t that always be done?’ he asked.
‘Not to destroy the bots,’ Meyanna replied. ‘You can heat them up a bit, threaten them with destruction, but they won’t leave a human host as that’s the only thing really keeping them alive in the first place.’
‘But maybe we could get them to malfunction a bit?’ he suggested. ‘Enough to get through to Kyarl?’
Meyanna considered this for a moment. ‘Maybe,’ she agreed. ‘If you targeted the bots clinging to his brain stem, you might be able to break the links there and let him speak for himself.’
Idris smiled grimly and turned from the laboratory. ‘That’s good enough for me. If we can uncover who’s responsible for the infection, we take away any advantage the Word has over us.’
***
Dhalere stood on the Sylph’s bridge as the captain’s face appeared on the viewing screen.
‘Where is Commander Ry’ere?’ he asked.
Dhalere replied, the Marines around her manning their stations and focused on the ship’s systems.
‘In the landing bay,’ she said. ‘They’re organising a means to evacuate the ship as soon as everybody is cleared of infection.’
‘We have the frequencies for the microwave scanners,’ the captain replied. ‘They’re being beamed over as we speak. I’ll have them sent directly to the Sylph’s sick bay and inform the general.’
‘Is this really necessary?’ Dhalere pressed. ‘Such a crude means of ensuring our people are clear of infection may kill those who have no idea that they are carriers. Are we really going to sacrifice innocent civilians in this way?’
‘Would you prefer we did not scan anybody, and perhaps sacrifice every last living human as a result, including yourself, Councillor?’
Dhalere bit her lip and thought fast. ‘I’m heading down to the landing bay right now. I’ll inform the general that the data is available, captain.’
She turned from the bridge and strode down toward the exits, cursing as she walked.
The Marines on the bridge had heard the captain’s command, so there was no way that she could not relay the information to the general without clearly exposing herself. Likewise, the Atlantia would also know of her deception immediately so there would be no going back.
Dhalere knew well what would happen when Bra’hiv or one of his sergeants got to work on Kyarl with the microwave scanner. Faced with death by heat, the Word would either perish or be forced to abandon control of Kyarl in an attempt to escape destruction, which might lead the young Marine to recover consciousness enough to expose her as the carrier.
A mild pulse of pain groaned through her brain and she cursed again under her breath.
I know.
There was no need to be reminded of the consequences of failure, nor the rewards of success. A serene sense of pleasure replaced the pain and she sighed as she walked, then focused again on the task at hand.
Infecting Kyarl at short notice had depleted her store of Infectors, and although they were replicating again she knew that she had little time. Kyarl could not be allowed to speak of his own free will. He either had to die or the scans be delayed. That, of course, was not the only problem. Meyanna Sansin would eventually get around to screening Dhalere’s blood, and having been under the X–Ray scanner at the time the blood was drawn she knew that there would be no hiding. Infectors would be found in her sample and she would be detained and quarantined.
Dhalere made her way down to the landing bay, felt the air stiffen with cold as the now deactivated heating systems lost control of the Sylph’s atmospheric balance. She walked into the landing bay and saw General Bra’hiv and Andaim talking near a pair of shuttle craft parked in the centre of the bay, pointed toward the closed bay doors ready for a rapid exit.
Marines were posted around the landing bay, their pulse rifles held at port arms, expressions hard and without compromise. She knew that Kyarl had been young and impressionable, but the battle–hardened former convicts of Bravo Company would be a different game altogether. She glanced at the towering Qayin and knew that the chances of her being able to infect the shrewd, self–serving gangster were almost nil. She needed a man who had a weak spot, a willingness to help and a natural concern for others.
Her eyes settled on Commander Ry’ere as she approached. Andaim was standing with Bra’hiv and examining a map, presumably of the Sylph.
‘General?’ she called, and saw Bra’hiv look at her. ‘The Atlantia is sending the microwave data aboard. It should be here within the next few minutes.’
‘Good,’ the general snapped in reply. ‘We can finally get some answers.’
Andaim shut the electronic map down, rolled it up into a tube and slid it into a pouch on his flight suit.
‘Do you think that Kyarl will talk?’ she asked the commander. ‘He might die before he can impart anything of use to us.’
‘We’ll all die if we don’t do something,’ Andaim replied. ‘You know as well as I do that once a person is infected, they’re doomed. There is no cure.’
Dhalere swallowed thickly. ‘We should always presume that there is something that we do not know. Perhaps the infected want to be cured, but cannot tell us that?’
Andaim looked down at her, the commander six feet tall and surprisingly intimidating when standing so close.
‘We’re working with what we
do
know, councillor,’ he said. ‘We don’t have time for a softly–softly approach. If we don’t figure out everything we can about what happened aboard this ship, and about the Infectors inside Kyarl, we’ll all be doomed. Now, are you going to help me or hinder me?’
Dhalere lifted her chin defiantly.
‘I’ll help,’ she said, ‘but perhaps you would allow me the chance to try to reach out to Kyarl? Maybe I can get him to fight the infection.’
‘I’d like to see that,’ Andaim snorted.
‘He’s a soldier,’ Dhalere insisted. ‘He deserves the right.’
Andaim looked at her for a moment and then glanced at Bra’hiv. The general shrugged. ‘Give the kid a chance, but if he hasn’t folded by the time we get the frequencies into these scanners, he’s toast.’
Dhalere smiled in gratitude and looked at Andaim. ‘Will you accompany me?’
‘What for?’
‘Kyarl is infected,’ she said, ‘and he could turn against me or even escape. The captain said that he wanted you present at any interrogation.’
‘He’s under guard.’
‘He’s under guard by former convicts,’ Dhalere insisted, ‘and we all know how they feel about councillors after what Hevel did.’
Andaim sighed and turned to walk with Dhalere.
‘You’ve probably got about ten minutes before Bra’hiv zaps the Marine,’ the commander said. ‘I can’t imagine what you think you’ll achieve in that short time.’
Dhalere smiled. ‘More than I could without the chance to try.’
Andaim led her to the elevator banks and they stepped inside, the commander hitting the button for the bridge deck level. The sick bay was located just aft of the bridge and one level down, as were most sick bays in order to facilitate injuries to bridge crews quickly. Most vessels, no matter how powerful, were likely to have their bridge targeted during combat and despite ray shielding some projectiles inevitably got through.
The elevator doors closed and the elevator hummed into life.
Dhalere’s heart was beating faster in her chest as she turned to Andaim and looked up at him.
‘We’re trapped aboard this ship, aren’t we,’ she whispered.
Her lip trembled and she let tears well up in her eyes. Andaim’s stoic features seemed to quiver as for the first time he realised that he was standing in an elevator with an emotionally vulnerable woman. The commander cultivated a reassuring smile.
‘We’re quarantined,’ he replied. ‘There’s a difference. This is by choice until we figure out a way to get off the Sylph without infecting anybody aboard the Atlantia.’
‘And if we can’t?’
Dhalere felt one of her tears trickle down her cheek. The commander saw it. He was, she knew, a decent and honourable man. A weakness, common among so many humans. Despite their bravado and often reckless courage, most officers were unable to withhold comfort from a distressed woman when faced with tears and a transparent plea for help.
‘We will,’ Andaim replied.
The commander turned toward her and Dhalere let him fold his arms about her as he pulled her in close. She could smell his uniform, crisp and clean, and she could hear his breathing and the beat of his heart inside his chest. Sixty seconds, she reckoned, just like Kyarl. She felt a warmth in her mouth, the tingle of Infectors swarming upon her tongue.
Still holding him, she drew her head back and looked up at Andaim. The commander, every bit as human as she had once been, looked down at her questioningly. She knew that he would not want her, just as she knew by the way he looked at Evelyn that it was the former convict he craved, but that did not matter.
Dhalere grasped the back of his head and pulled it down as she kissed him fiercely, threw her arms about his neck and held on to him as tightly as she could. She felt him recoil from her, trying to break free, and as he did so he opened his lips to try to ask her to stop.
Dhalere darted her hot little tongue into his mouth, held it there for a brief moment and then released the lieutenant.
Andaim jolted back from her, his eyes swimming with turmoil.
‘What the hell was that?’ he demanded.
Dhalere maintained her stormy, volatile expression. ‘I don’t know, I just…’
She let her voice trail off and then turned away from him and straightened her jacket.
Andaim mirrored her actions and stood just behind her in the elevator, his back straight and his chin held high as though he were on a parade ground.
The elevator shuddered and the doors opened. Dhalere strode out alongside the bridge doors and turned aft, heading down a flight of metal steps toward the sick bay. She could hear Andaim following her, his boots falling heavily on the steps. Sixty seconds had passed and the commander had not yet fallen. She knew that her limited resources had also meant a limited infection: the Infectors might not have sufficient numbers to completely control Andaim, but once they replicated in sufficient numbers he would belong to her.
She saw the sick bay ahead of her, two Marines posted as sentries outside.
The commander stumbled as he walked off the bottom of the steps, and she turned to see him holding his forehead and blinking.
‘Are you okay?’ she asked.
Andaim waved her off, anger on his features, but he said nothing.