“We’ve bought ourselves some time, but not much. We need to take a look at the logs and see what we’re up against before we do any more traipsing around out there. The cores are the critical problem. If we don’t get them stabilized, the epidemic won’t matter. If the other two show up like I expect them to, maybe we can drop you off at sickbay and lock you in while the rest of us try to save the ship.”
“A 90 minute cure, Commander?”
“Either that or the patient spontaneously combusts.”
RJ’s voice came in. “Adrian, we’ve received ship layout and command codes. Transmitting to you now.”
RJ’s timing was impeccable. From the Main menu we went into Library. There were four pages in alphabetical order. On page two, there was a choice titled ‘Captain’s’. I tapped it and a prompt came up, ‘Command code required’. The corpse helping us had authorization to make propulsion system changes but did not have authorization to read the Captain’s personal log. From my wrist display I entered the highest command code relayed by RJ and a series of dates flashed on the screen. Above them was something that gave me pause.
Captain’s Logs
Captain Mako Hayashi
JSA Authorization CD84973Z
Commanding The Akuma
The name was more than familiar. Captain Mako Hayashi was too young to be a legend. More time on the bridges of starships than many officers twice her age. Youngest woman ever to be awarded a master’s class license for heavy drafts. Youngest woman ever to have been awarded command of a Fuso-class starship. First woman captain of the starship Yamashiro. A legend she was. I had seen her picture in a dozen different publications. I tried to put it aside, and without thinking chose the most recent log date.
More intraflex needed. Passive administration with preventable funding. Overflow of deterrents. Xxpsj llojjjj aaaaaa.
Meaningless jumble. I went farther down the list and selected a date from four weeks ago. We sped read the readout and found a passage that seemed important.
The unexplained EM pulse was more than our systems could handle. We have damaged systems all over the ship. Communications and Telemetry are down completely. We do not have command of Engineering from the Bridge. Still, I believe we will be able to repair systems though it will take some time. The most serious issue may be the water. Check and feed valves burned out in the open state and fresh water dumped overboard and has been mixed into the emergency coolant tanks. We will try to recollect the frozen water outside and begin the separation process for all available water. It won’t be fun around here after a few days with no showers.
The next three entries were about the same. The fourth changed in tone slightly for the worse.
Damage to the Communications, Telemetry, and Navigation appears to be worse than expected. Engineering unable to give me an estimate of when propulsion will be back online. Valves have been rigged so that they can be set manually, and we have rotations operating them hourly to meet systems requirements. We must now consider water to be our most critical problem since we will not be underway any time soon. The navigation group and astrophysics believe we are close enough to the Oort Cloud to harvest water ice using scout craft equipped with tractor beam generators. Those modifications are in progress and should be completed tomorrow provided damage to the various support equipment is repaired.
Two days later the Captain’s outlook improved.
The plan to harvest water ice from the Oort Cloud material appears to be working. Two scouts are returning with large sections in tow. This development means we are out of danger. All other expendables remain in adequate supply. Best estimates for repairs to ship’s systems continues to be several weeks. We are concentrating as much time as possible on communications in hopes of signaling Earth outposts with modified probe launches. One replacement transponder has been found undamaged and will be installed soon.
Over the next several days, they processed their water ice and refilled their tanks. Repairs continued to go painfully slow. As I scrolled down, Doc stopped me and pointed to something, a single line at the end of one report.
One crewman has fallen ill and has been admitted to sickbay for observation.
Doc shook his head. “There it is. He’s almost certainly the index case. The first one to become ill. If it’s an airborne or physical contact delivery system, those around him will be next.”
Doc’s hypothesis quickly played out. As we continued through the log entries, more and more crew became incapacitated. A week into the epidemic the doctors were frantic. In a desperate attempt to understand, they eliminated the airborne option by experimenting on their own crew. They did the same with physical contact. The log entries kept mentioning ‘Common Source Outbreak’. Eventually, with half the crew infected, they finally solved the riddle.
It was the new water. It had been tested and retested before use and found to be pure. It had gone through all of the filtration and processing procedures, and then retested again. But even after human testing had proven the water was the source of the outbreak they could not identify a pathogen. It was something beyond the existing test matrix.
From that point on the log entries became a true horror story. Many who were not yet sick had already drunk the water. Even more macabre, those who had not knew that after a few days’ time they too would be forced to drink it or die of dehydration.
We scrolled down through a few more entries, and just as the story had become as bad as we thought it could get, it took another turn for the worse.
Most of the crew is now infected, including the doctors. I’m surprised I’ve held out this long but I had to begin drinking the water last night. It was that or lose consciousness. To make matters worse, if that’s possible, the symptoms of the infection have changed. No one is dying except in those cases where there have been accidents or violence. After the initial symptoms run their course, the victims regain their mobility and energy but not their rationality. Some remain semi-comatose, others appear intoxicated, and some seem to regress to childlike personalities or sometimes adopt the personalities of famous people they have admired or studied. Crewman Naoko Sato thinks he is Jesse James, the infamous cowboy-outlaw. Crewman Sora Takahashi is now acting out Empress Suiko. We are unable to detain the more dangerous people who are under this type of influence as I have no one to assign to such a task. I will use as little water as possible in hopes of delaying the effects. We have just a single transponder operating. Our only hope now is for rescue, but we are not expected back to the Terran System for several weeks. I do not see how we will last that long.
There were two more daily entries and then a gap. To my surprise, they resumed but contained confusion and absurdities. In one passage, she was complaining that negotiations with Genghis Khan were not going well. His trade demands were unreasonable. In another, a section of the crew quarters had been redesigned as a temple palace and it was done without approval from the Emperor. In still another, her helmsman Sulu had taken a Samurai sword to storm Engineering and regain control of ‘Enterprise’. As I read, Wilson’s voice came over the intercom.
“Adrian, we’re in the airlock.”
“Stand by, you two. Do not open that inner door until we get there. Are you armed?”
“For heaven’s sake, Adrian, of course we’re armed.”
I turned to say something to Doc just in time to see him twist his helmet and lift it off.
“What the hell are you doing?”
“I switched to decompression as soon as I saw the reference to Common Source Outbreak, Commander.”
“Isn’t anybody around here going to do what I tell them?”
“Adrian, it’s hardly a surprise you would assemble a crew of people who think for themselves. It’s your own calling card, for Christ’s sake. Don’t worry, there’s no decision-making required here. We can’t go back to the Griffin unless we prove we’re clean. We can’t stay in the suits forever. There’s no biology left on this ship to test with, except for us, s
o, I’m it. You guys have to stay suited up because you’ve got to get to that engine core. We can’t risk you becoming Disney characters before that happens. I’m the only one who can pick up the work on the epidemic and I can’t do that too good in a spacesuit. So it’s all very logical, my friend. We’ll go secure sickbay and you can lock me up so I can start my work, then you guys go stop this ship from becoming a fireworks display.”
“Doc…”
“You want me to put my helmet back on?”
“No, I just…”
“For God’s sake, don’t go getting mushy just when I was just starting to admire you. How about helping me with the torso? The kids are waiting down in the airlock.”
Completely disarmed, I helped him out of the shell and watched him dig through the satchel for his gray flight suit. We removed his com unit from the Bell Standard and he worked the earpiece and mike into position around his ear. There was a reasonably safe place for everything by the elevator. With great trepidation, we unlocked the bridge. Weapons ready, we stood at the elevator and waited for the doors to open. The carriage came up empty. With our corpse-assistant left on the bridge still tied to his seat, we headed back to level 1. I tried to sneak occasional glances at Doc, looking for unusual behavior even though we both knew it was far too soon for that.
We found the level one corridor clear. Strange sounds continued all around, but there was no sign of Jesse James or Genghis Kahn. Without the burden of the Bell Standard spacesuit, Doc had to keep waiting for me to catch up. He scanned ahead and behind with his palm beacon, weapon held ready in the other hand.
In the ready room at the airlock door, the pressure panel read 14.2. I tapped the open key and the door slid aside to reveal two space-suited people standing like robots.
Erin exclaimed, “Oh my God, Doc!”
Doc raised one eyebrow and forgot to click his transmit button. “You really think you’re any better off?”
Erin saw his lips move but heard nothing of it.
“Coms to external, guys,” I said.
They both tapped at their sleeve controls.
Erin turned her body to face me. “What was the propulsion core temperature the last time you saw it?”
“Barely holding at redline, but it won’t last. It was still counting down to containment failure,” I replied.
“Let’s get going. There is nuclear momentum to a core breach. It won’t reverse easily.”
“Getting there may not be easy, either. There may be interference. Carry your weapons up. Wide beam, stun one should be enough. We need to drop Doc off at sickbay on the way.”
“It’s level three, halfway to the core,” said Wilson. “I’ve been memorizing the floor plan. We brought four tablets that are setup with floor plan and ship system layouts. They’re set to suit frequency. They’ll double as com units, if necessary.”
They had already dropped their maneuvering units and belt packs. I went to the ready room door and looked in both directions. The way seemed clear. The others gathered awkwardly behind me. I looked back at them to be sure they were ready.
“Shoot first, ask questions later?” They stared back as though more explanation was needed. There were no humorous quips or comebacks. No joviality remained; the dire circumstance we now found ourselves trapped within explicitly written on each of their faces. It was one of those somber moments when com systems are almost unnecessary. Communication takes place on a higher level. Imminent death will do that sometimes.
Chapter 21