“Were you not part of the team that discovered the genetic components of the mummy?” Mr. Rougeau asked before Quixote could respond.
“We didn’t examine why it died.”
“How do you know it died from Yersinia?” Rougeau said. Quixote was impressed with the navigator’s interrogation.
“Everything that gets it dies.”
“Excuse us a moment,” Prediz interrupted, gathering the Kiians in a huddle while Quixote and the three humans waited.
“What’s this about?” Stone asked quietly. Watson shrugged.
“Is there more we can talk about?” Gorren said. The four of them returned to the table and sat down.
“Can you shed some light on the role of the Pegasi, then?” Quixote asked the four Kiians. Harchett came in with more water and this time a carafe of coffee and seven cups. Quixote never drank coffee and made no secret that, in fact, xe hated it.
“Pegasi?” Gorren asked. Stone sighed audibly and Rougeau shook his head ever so slightly. Quixote ignored their communications as to not draw attention to their disrespect, although xe wished xe could do the same.
“You said earlier that they took over the care of the Cinconians when Kiians were unable to find a cure,” Quixote said with Job’s patience.
“Yes, but why would be know?”
“Never mind. Let me get back to why we really came to speak with you. It’s about help. Our team is helping the Cinconians fight their plague, but we need people to help. We are asking for you to bring people to Cinco to help fight the plague.” The only sound was that of Harchett pouring coffee in ceramic cups.
“How many people?” Markrem asked.
“A thousand people.”
“A thousand! To do what?” Gorren demanded.
“Help on Cinco to spread the medicine, or, perhaps, set up one of your research facilities here on Cuatro to manufacture vaccines.”
“I don’t understand your words. Is Captain Jackson going to join us?”
“Captain Jackson is on Cinco. He asked me to step in for him in this matter.”
“Quixote,” Prediz said. “We may have some answers for you, but I’m not authorized to release it.” The project overseer should have the authority.
“About the Pegasi?”
“Not Pegasi. The artifact, the dry dead human.”
“I’d like to know that information,” said the woman suffering from exposure by the body of Yersinia.
“Is there, perhaps, something you would like to trade in exchange?”
The Kiians smiled at each other and nodded, chattering and twittering like children about to negotiate candy bars for rocks.
“We didn’t think humans would want to collect another artifact,” Gorren said. “Perhaps you would like to come to the planet and look at it?”
“It?” Quixote didn’t want to get stranded on the planet, at the mercy of the Kiians’ shuttle schedule, but what would xe miss out on by declining the offer of another artifact.
“It’s almost destroyed,” Prediz added.
“I’m afraid you’ll have to tell me what would be worth a trip to Cuatro. I dislike EV suits as I told you before.” Xe had a custom suit that accommodated a large tail, a tall body, and a mesocephalic skull, but the actual wearing of the garment posed difficulties aside from discomfort.
The Kiians hesitated and dawdled over the coffee for nearly a minute. Prediz set down her cup and took a deep breath.
“It’s a space capsule.”
~~~
“Well, somebody has to stay on deck,” Quixote said as the small crew boarded the Kiian shuttle at the airlock. Honey Stone and Zalara Jackson stood by the big reptile’s side like soldiers as the doors shut. “I hope you young ladies are able to occupy yourselves in the gymnasium this evening until Mr. Mills can come for you.”
“We can both stay in my quarters,” Honey assured him.
“You are required to have adult supervision, and we are short of available adults right now. I want your mother to be able to watch you from the video system,” he said directing that to Zalara. “I’ll be on the bridge,” he told them and hustled them toward the elevator.
Quixote stopped at the galley and begged a tall glass of juiced celery from Bailey before he headed up top. The bridge was remarkably quiet; only xtself and the navigator were there as Mr. Watson had joined the landing party.
Xe thought about putting together a report for the captain regarding the diversion from gathering medical troops to collecting a space ship, and despite the magnitude of the outcome, xe’d not accomplished the mission Jackson had assigned. The captain would still need bodies in the field doing actual work on Cinco, and vaccines in the manufacturing process as well, if they were to ever leave the Eta Cassiopeia system.
“Sick bay to bridge.”
“Quixote.”
“Sir, I’m worried about Ms. Jackson,” Mr. Mills said bluntly.
“Which Ms. Jackson?” Quixote asked.
“Rianya. Her symptoms are worsening. The antibiotics don’t seem to be working.”
“Not everyone responds to medicine for humans the same way,” he reminded the young man. More than once the same situation had applied in xts own life.
“But it’s the germ that we’re targeting, and it’s the same as the one we’re killing on Cinco.”
“Is there something you would like me to do, Mr. Mills? I would think this is your area of expertise; it’s unquestionably not mine.”
“I need you to be aware. I’m going to try a new therapy for her, but if you hear from the captain, it might be better if he doesn’t speak with her. She sounds terrible.”
“I agree, Mr. Mills. The captain will worry, as he would for any of us.” Well, perhaps he would worry a bit more for his wife but Quixote wasn’t positive. Captain Jackson was created of curiosity and compassion to a fault. “I’ll simply tell him she’s resting and that you’ve said she can’t be disturbed.”
“Thank you, sir, Mills out.”
“Rougeau, who is aboard?” Quixote rarely sat down when on the bridge. Again, the chairs were designed for humans.
“Beside the two of us, and the children, Bailey, Anne, Kym, Harchett, Mills, and Rianya, of course. Ten souls.”
“Stay in orbit, and let me know if anything comes up. I’ll be in engineering, where it’s warmer than this bridge. When Stone calls up just patch it down there.”
“Aye, sir, will do.”
Quixote and Kym Byrd spent several hours testing and adjusting the positron–electron chambers while the landing party had all the fun on Cuatro. He’d just taken apart one of seven de Laval nozzles when the com channel signaled.
“Stone?”
“Yes sir. I have intriguing information for you about the space capsule.”
“I’d like to hear it.”
“I’m not sure you will.” Quixote looked at Byrd. Her eyes widened and shoulders lifted.
“Like it or not, I need to know what you found.”
“Mr. Watson and I think we should have it towed on board.”
“Wait, wait, just a minute. Bring it on board Maria Mitchell? Just how sizeable is it? What about radiation emissions? Why risk bringing it--”
“I don’t want to discuss it on an open com, sir. The ship is small and would fit in the CEV bay. It only appears large enough for four people at most. It’s in bad shape, obviously crash landed some time ago.”
“The Kiians are willing to tow it to us?”
“For a price,” she responded. Quixote considered the possibilities. It could transpire into a Trojan Horse of any number of dangerous variants.
“I’m going to need more than that, Ms. Stone. Send me some images and data on its hull. Can you tell where it came from? Does it verify interplanetary travel for the Cuatrons?”
“No, sir. But I can tell you one very odd thing.” He waited.
“And that is?”
“Quantum dating registers the vehicle as four hundred eight years positive, and four hundred twelve years negative.”
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