“Mama’s sick. You’ll just have to stay with Mr. Mills here in sick bay.”
“Why can’t I stay at Honey’s?”
“I need you here, Zalara,” Mills told her. The former nurse, now a Physician’s Assistant, would be the senior member of the medical team remaining in sick bay during the mission. Nurse Henderson would also stay aboard.
“To fix people?” she asked with wide, emerald eyes. Mills glanced at the captain and then bent down to Zalara’s level near the floor.
“Not necessarily, but you never know,” he said. Tom hadn’t disclosed Zalara’s ability, and he didn’t think Adams had done so either. Tom tried to ignore the real meaning behind her question.
“Can I fix Mama?” she asked, looking at Tom.
“No, what she has is all mixed up,” he told her. Zalara could heal a laceration, make a single organ cooperate, or, as in Tom’s case, remove a growing tumor deep in his brain, but microscopic trouble, at the cellular level, was not something she had the instinct to deal with the way a single cause could be isolated and dispatched.
Tom glanced up and Mills and shrugged as if he had no idea what Zalara was talking about. Mills winked back, and it seemed the Jackson secret was still safe.
“I’ll be back in a couple of days, Pet.”
“I want to go with you!” she wailed.
“’Lara, the germs are on the planet; I can’t let you go down there.”
“I don’t want the germ to get you like Mama.”
“It won’t,” Mills cut in. He leaned close to the small girl where her ear would be under her mop of chestnut hair. “I gave your dad a special weapon to take with him so he won’t get sick.” Check.
“Can I have a special weapon, too?” Checkmate.
“Pet, you just stay here with Mr. Mills and Honey will be around. You always want to stay at her place, but I want you to sleep in sick bay, just in case.”
“In case I need to fix someone.”
“Yes,” Tom said, and put a light kiss on the top of her head and hurried out before he was lassoed again.
Captain Jackson headed to the launch bay with tenacious focus. He checked the chronometer com device on his wrist noting he was barely on time at 08:00 hours. Rather than wait for the elevator he dashed down the steps two at a time to the lowest deck of the Maria Mitchell.
“Good morning, All,” he called, clambering through the submarine style door to the launch bay, his gear bag slung over one shoulder. A chorus of ‘good morning’ resounded a few meters away near the Osprey where the landing party had loosely assembled.
“Everyone did have their treatment from Dr. Adams, yes?” A chorus of “yes sir” was followed by some scuffling and scrambling as last minute additional equipment was stowed into the shuttle. Ten people were the maximum occupancy for the transporting vehicle. Jackson climbed in and checked their Hydrogen, Nitrogen, and O2 tanks, tracking antenna, and uplinked communications to the Maria Mitchell’s sensor data. With a full complement of people and equipment, Jackson liked to double check behind his helmsmen, not because he didn’t trust them, but as a second set of eyes and ears to confirm function before he risked everyone’s lives.
“All aboard,” he called to the gaggle outside the Osprey. The last person in, Sergeant York, closed the hatch and employed the lock seal. She took her seat, strapped in, and engaged the thermal conditioners before they left the ship.
“Osprey to bridge,” Lieutenant Lee called. “Chick’s ready to leave the nest.”
“Bridge to shuttle, beginning depressurization, stand by for space door retraction,” came a voice that Jackson identified as Mr. Watson’s. Although every officer knew the protocols, he always appreciated their formality given the gravity of their actions.
“I have the vents purged and switched to nitrogen,” Lee advised. “Auxiliary power engaged, space doors open, thrusters at the ready, static discharged.”
“Osprey,” Watson’s voice again. “You are clear for launch. Godspeed.”
“Aye, Osprey out.”
Lieutenant Lee set the shuttle near the coordinates of the Continental Health Organization satellite office in New Hope. Yee Akadar from the United Medical Assembly confirmed that the location would be an ideal place to start the project but also expressed dismay that the CHO had gotten involved. Jackson didn’t share Akadar’s uncooperative attitude. He found it partisan and contrary to the entire mission, making a mental note to keep a closer eye on the project than he had originally hoped to do.
Jackson and Adams left the rest of the crew with the shuttle and headed for the single-story adobe half a kilometer to the north. Both shrugged their field jacket hoods tighter around their faces when an icy gust briefly stopped their march.
Milling around the building Cinconians wore little in the way of protective clothing. The white furred race seemed oblivious to the cold, and the brown shaded race simply wore cloaks to buffet the wind. Jackson checked around but didn’t see any Pegasi or Kiians lurking in the corners. At least that was one thing off his mind.
Once inside the New Hope Facility for the Future, Jackson spotted both Yee Akadar and Yee Odalis speaking with three others on the far side of the hall. The men strode quickly to meet their new associates. Jackson pulled the hood from his face as the slightly warmer interior temperature defrosted his skin.
“Hello Earth friends,” Yee Akadar said in a fairly reasonable approximation of English.
“We meet again,” Jackson said, not extending a hand but tipping his head slightly. “You remember Dr. Adams.”
The Earthlings followed the Cinconians to a medical room that had been set up with multiple tables and business machines as well as medical tools, including microscopes, surgical tools, and overhead surgical lighting. All seven took a seat around the largest table.
“First things first,” Dr. Adams began. “Have all social gatherings been suspended? Religious services, public transportation, entertainment venues, amusement hubs, supply malls, restaurants, all schools?”
“Yes,” Yee Akadar said. He spoke to Odalis in their language and turned back to Jackson.
“But not secluding everyone. That’s just a drain on medical supplies and resources and it’s not necessary.”
“Patient and family of patients. Five or six each patient.”
“Are there enough people available that we can set up manufacturing and distribution.”
“We are hope.”
“Children are the primary focus,” Adams continued. “They seem to be the best vectors for anything anywhere. Where, globally, are the main distribution stations? You’ve been able to communicate that we’re going to do this all at once everywhere?” The two yees looked back and forth with some confusion; at least Jackson guessed that’s what it was.
“We said to all. Here is map, location,” Akadar said, pushing a large paper map across the table. “But no methods get many medicine to all fast. Must go on vehicle water course or metro.”
“We have our transport shuttle that can fly in a high orbit and make deliveries to central locations. You have vehicles to take it to cities, and people to take it to small isolated towns,” Jackson said, making sure there were no obstacles to completing his mission. He gesticulated to help the yees comprehend his words. “You will need to have everything else stop – no making tables, music boxes, teaching school, going to court, everything must stop and focus only on getting everyone the medicine in thirty days.”
Adams nodded in agreement, and Jackson studied the map for a minute. It was a reasonable global map considering they had no satellites in orbit. Six locations were marked and a figure was scribbled next to the X mark. Was it the name of the nation state, the city, or a number? He could barely speak the brown fur race’s language, much less the white fur race’s dialect, and reading was out of the question. He didn’t want to learn it, either. He had so many languages and alphabets in his head he was only going to commit the ones to memory that he would need for more than one mission.
He knew one language of Beta Hydri Four, a local language of Tau Ceti D, and a rudimentary grasp of merchant Pegasi, and an almost fluent universal Kiian, and English, Earth’s dominant language but certainly not the only one.
“Adams doctor, what do females have infants?” Akadar asked. Jackson and Adams exchanged glances. They both looked at Akadar, and he made a gesture to indicate a round belly. His wide blue eyes suggested a question.
“Pregnant patients?” Adams rubbed his fingers together. “That’s a decision you will have to make. I can’t be sure of side effects or efficacy.” The brown male looked at the white male.
“E fee cee?”
“If it will work, safely, or not.”
Jackson hadn’t even thought about pregnant females. These backwards places without modern medicine sent a cringe along his spine, compelling him to compare their situation with 19th century Earth, or earlier.
Dr. Ferris, Ms. York, and Mr. Wagner entered the room escorted by a pale furred Cinconian. Jackson stood and introduced the members of his crew.
“They will be working with us, Dr. Ferris leading the medical project, Ms. York and Mr. Wagner on the manufacturing and distribution projects. I have more crew members who will help at each facility you have noted on the map.” Everyone sat down again.
“Captain,” Ms. York said. “Should we set up a camp or will there be indoor accommodations for us? I think we should prefer the latter. All of us can’t sleep in the shuttle.”
“We would like to unload our supplies and equipment,” Jackson said to both yees. “Where would you like us to stay?”
The two looked at each other, then to the three associates at the table, spoke some words in their own language, and seemed to come to a consensus.
“We have room ah building here ah stay ah sleeps human. I think too cold ah staying outside,” Odalis said with a Cinconian smile. “Come, we talk later more.”
One of the Cinconian associates with longish rusty fur waved for them to follow, and he ambled down the hall and out into the foyer before striding to the other side of the building. Jackson kept a mental image of their travel through the maze in case, as he imagined, an escort wasn’t available every time they would have to wander the halls.
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