Symbiosis Chapter 17

“I’ve never seen this bug before,” Ferris said. She sat and tapped a keyboard while a disturbingly intimate image of a single bacteria in false color and glorious prickled detail appeared on a monitor.

“Did you expect to recognize an alien bacteria?” Jackson asked. He stood next to Rianya and the two of them watched with Dr. Adams while Ferris focused in on the tiniest detail with her proton microscope. “Down on the planet they all look alike under those old microscopes, a thousand power, like you can see anything but it’s damn shape.”

“What have they been fighting it with?” Rianya asked.

“I’ve analyzed the chemical structures and named them A-K. One looks like the same structure as streptomycin.” Jane Ferris turned to look at the Jacksons, her blue eye and white hair closest to them that gave her a different look entirely than if they had stood on her brown and black side. A little of the dark pigment crossed the bridge of her nose into the light skin.

“You didn’t bring this bug on board, right? I don’t want an outbreak of something nasty,” the captain said.

“No, no live cultures. Adams and I sat through a second round of decon just to be sure.”

“Good. I have some surveys to decipher,” he said quietly. “You want to have dinner?” he asked Rianya. She’d not said much to him since his return from the planet. She nodded once and followed him out the door.

“I know you’re angry,” he said as they walked down the corridor to the galley and captain’s mess. “I couldn’t send you down there.”

“You said I could go then you said I not go. Why?” Tom hesitated, wanting to get the words right.

“This bug is killing thousands of Cinconians every day. They haven’t been able to kill it, for centuries. If we end up with this problem, I want Adams to concentrate on humans, and not have to split his attention half a dozen ways to humans, and you, and Zalara, and Quixote, and Cinconians. I want the least exposure possible.” Rianya was quiet. “Do you understand what I’m saying?”

“Of course. That was an intelligent decision,” she said softly. They came to the mess and followed through until they passed into the private dining room.

“Where’s Zalara?”

“I had kid-watch this morning, then they had an hour of school with Anne, then another with Bailey, and they’re with Cat now since you all got back.”

“I heard my name,” their chef said, entering the captain’s mess from the galley. “You two are here for dinner? It’s a little early, but in ten minutes I’ll have it out for you.” She vanished as quickly as she’d come in.

“So how’s the body from Cuatro coming along? Anything interesting?” The steward brought a tray of assorted items including iced tea and bread to the table.

“Actually, yes,” she said, taking a hot dinner roll and biting into it. “I confirmed human DNA, but not exclusively. There are other nu… nuu…nuc-lee-oh-tides that I’m going to catalog then compare to what’s in the database.” She dipped the roll in a shallow dish of honey. Tom poured two tall glasses of tea.

“This thing is re-writing our history. I just don’t understand how it can be all those things: old, human, and on Eta Cass Cuatro.” He shook his head and took a long drink of the tea.

“Well, Tom, you’ll figure it out.”

“Not my job, really. I’m here to deal with the crisis on Eta Cass Cinco. And I haven’t figured out why Dukvita is hovering around but I’m betting he’s connected somehow.”

“Do you think they’re all connected?” Rianya picked up her tea. Tom reached to the intercom and pressed a red button.

“Sick bay.”

“Doc, can you tell me what the Cinconians are using right now to treat their plague patients?”

“Sure. An aminoglycoside,” Adams said.

“That tells me exactly nothing. Is that an antibiotic? How long have they been using it?”

“Yes. Decades. That’s why it’s not working anymore. The bug is resistant. I’m thinking of using a Trojan horse gene to target the little titans’ cell membranes, just this one bacterium--”

“What did they use before that?”

“Are you taking up medicine, Jack?” Tom didn’t answer but gave the voice panel an impatient stare. “They had a form of synthetic penicillin, something like Earth’s amoxicillin, but the bacteria is resistant to that now. It’s just like we suspected.”

“Thanks, Doc.” Tom looked at Rianya.

“Antibiotic resistance,” she said. “Oh, I said that right, didn’t I?”

“We had a terrible issue with that on Earth a century ago. The doctors couldn’t come up with enough variety of drugs the bacteria were mutating so quickly. Ten billion people all suffering from something. My father’s father got a cut on his leg, and in three days he was dead from a simple bacteria. Three days.” Rianya’s eyes widened and she sat up straighter, staring at Tom while he stirred his tea.

“You never told me that. How did they deal with it?”

Mr. Harchett, the ship’s steward, came in with two dishes of a casserole, still steaming from the oven.

“That looks great, thanks.” Tom dropped the conversation over the bacterial quandary when the scent of baked chicken and pasta compelled him to take a bite despite the obvious temperature. “This is so good,” he mumbled, then looked up. Rianya was waiting for an answer. “Oh, ask Doc but they used genetic splicing.”

“You humans love playing with genes.”

“A little too much if you ask me,” Tom said before spearing another chunk of chicken casserole.

“You eat all that pasta and you’re going to crash at twenty hundred.” Tom looked up suddenly to discern if she was sending a subtle communication or it was just his imagination.

“I thought you were mad at me.”

“I was, for a lot of reasons that don’t matter anymore.” She faced her dinner but looked up at Tom. The corners of her mouth turned up just the tiniest bit, and her brows relaxed over her exotic eyes. The frilled pupils would dilate to big round dots when she was about to ambush him with affection.

“Harchett!” he shouted into the galley. The man’s face appeared in the archway. “Coffee with desert tonight.”

                                                                     ~~~

Morning arrived exactly as it always did on the Maria Mitchell. Lights brightened slowly from darkness, and a faint chime grew a little louder as the seconds ticked by. Rianya didn’t want to get up at all, comfortable as she was sharing Tom’s pillow, her face in his neck, his scratchy morning face touching the tip of her nose.

His body was warm, smooth from his neck to his legs on the back. She shifted until they fit like spoons in a drawer, despite how much bigger he was in every dimension. She placed one hand on top of Tom’s shoulder and slowly stroked down his arm, curious, still, why humans had sparse hair growing from their elbows to fingers but not higher. Was there an evolutionary benefit, or was it akin to bright colors on a male bird’s tail, something to attract a mate?

The lights were at full brightness and the chime had gotten louder then finally stopped. Oh six hundred was oh so early for her. Tom rustled over to his other side to face her, wrapping one arm around her and pulling her close. He still hadn’t opened his eyes and she didn’t want him to. If he woke the bliss could break and might not return for a long time again.

She was fond of Tom’s alien hair against her skin when they were face to face. If her theory about the male birds was right, it had certainly worked on her. His maleness surpassed other men she’d known intimately. From top to bottom he was nothing but bone, muscle, and heart.

“Hmm. Breakfast in bed,” he muttered, eyes still closed, not moving a muscle. She nestled up under his chin and moved her hand to his ribs. Finding her face under her blanket of hair he kissed her brows and her closed eyes. The chime started up again, softly, growing louder.

“Make it stop,” Rianya said.

“Alarm, stop,” Tom commanded and the chime obeyed. For another minute they lay together, entwined, warm, quiet.

“Mama, Papa,” came Zalara’s voice through the door a half second before she did, promptly climbing on the bed. “Time for get up.”

At noon Rianya traded off the child care to Cat and went up to sick bay. She walked in on a huddle. Dr. Adams, Dr. Ferris, P.A. Mills, Nurse Henderson, and Tom clustered around a table and a peculiar silence pervaded the room.

“What’s going on? Have you found something?” All faces turned to her. She stepped back, startled at the look of panic, or horror, or surprise, or all of those emotions to one degree or another on each face.

“We’ve identified the pathogen,” Adams said gravely. He nodded to call Rianya closer to the gathering. She joined them, unsure if the name of the bacteria was important or if they should just start treating it. “It was in our database, but we didn’t find it right away. It’s ancient, and virtually extinct on Earth.”

“You all look like you’ve seen death itself.”

“We have,” Tom said. “This is Yersinia pestis.”