Jeopardy Chapter 13

“You sent a communication!” Gugnichacrik whistled into the translator box. He clattered down the two steps from the captain’s chair to the command stations. His arms and legs cartwheeled like fat whips.

“No, I’m… rerouting power for the galley. We have to eat, often. You’ve damaged our power conduits trying to get our EBMs. I must have tripped something accidentally.”

“Show me what you did,” he said. A cold, moist tentacle brushed Lee’s hand on its way to touch the console. Lee jerked away as if it were red hot.

“Listen, I don’t have time to answer your questions. If you want this ship to fly, I’m the only one, and you need to let me do my job,” Lieutenant Lee shouted at the Zlōger. The commander whipped an arm up and slapped Lee in the mouth, his claw hooking and tearing at his lip. A scarlet gash spread across Lee’s chin.

“You don’t talk, you don’t eat, you don’t touch buttons, you only fly,” said the emotionless, robotic voice of the plastic box. The whining returned. “I will download computer data.”

The blue Zlōger didn’t return to the captain’s chair but instead found a way to seat himself at the communications post. His eyes swiveled to examine the buttons, lights, images, and the results of manipulating each of them in turn.

Chen Lee wiped the blood from his chin and pressed his knuckles against the slash to slow the hemorrhage. He wiped a few drips off the dashboard and smeared them on his pants leg. The salty, warm fluid on his tongue sent a shudder creeping up his spine. Those blue deca-bastards!

In the transparent screen in front of him, the mirror finish was clean enough to reflect the image of the blue blob just slightly behind him to his left. The short appendages around his mouth waved like antennas, the next pair, his arms, selected different icons and pressed different buttons with deliberate concentration. Two prehensile legs adjusted the screens, lighting, and chair.

Lee saw the red light blinking and placed his hand over it, shielding the indicator from the Zlōger’s view. He touched some icons and the image before him shrank to a few centimeters. To his eyes the shape of the Osprey was easily defined as it approached the shuttle bay below the keel.

“What is that sound?” Commander Zlōger asked, his eyes swiveling around the bridge. Lee pretended not to hear.

“What sound?”

“A hydraulic.”

“I don’t hear anything.”

“Then your hearing is faulty.” Lee didn’t think beforehand that although the frequency was out of human hearing it might be right in the Zlōger range. He sneaked a look at the image of the Osprey approaching the hold. The double space doors, damaged from Osprey’s emergency landing, now caused a distinctive squeal as they parted. Damaged components within the bulkheads couldn’t be replaced without mooring in a space dock, but since they worked, Jackson hadn’t cared if they were a little noisy.

Lee gently, covertly, touched a control to suspend the action of the doors, stopping the noise, but also refusing entry to the Osprey. His heart beat faster; he could hear it in his ears. The Zlōger could probably hear it too if he could hear the space doors opening.

But Lee had to get the doors open. The Zlōger ship was attached to the docking port; there was no other way. He glanced at Zlōger working over their communication system, downloading Maria Mitchell’s database. His hand crept across the dashboard toward the control switch.

“Keep your claws where I can see them,” the Zlōger told him. Lee slid his hand back, the space doors partway open, the bay depressurized, the captain and crew hovering in the Osprey.




“What’s going on?” Jackson muttered. The space doors stopped only a third open as if they were stuck. “Are the doors screwed up again?” The rest of the crew stretched their necks to look out the window at the belly of the Maria Mitchell. “I can’t get in there.” He tapped the console. “Jackson to Maria Mitchell, come in.” The five of them all exchanged perplexed glances and frowns.

“Maybe they’re busy with the Zlōgers?” Zoe said.

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” Jackson replied. “Jackson to Maria Mitchell, come in.” Silence.

“Maybe fly by the bow; see if anyone is on the bridge?” Kym asked.

“If there’s a Zlōger on the bridge it might be better he doesn’t know we’re here. He sees us as easily as we see them.”

“Are you sure you can’t get the Osprey in, Captain?”

“We could get stuck or crushed if the doors move. I can’t be sure they’ll stay like that if no one on the bridge answers.”

“Watch the tow line, sir, we’re drifting.” Jackson looked out and noticed his thrusters were not at station keeping and made some adjustments. The ship righted and moved away from the cable. He moved the shuttle twenty meters on the zero axis and hovered under the ventral side of his ship before guiding the craft up under the docking port. The Zlōger shuttle was still docked there.

“Well, we’re not going to float around out here forever. EV suits, everyone.” Each crew member swam to the back of the spacecraft and encased themselves in a heavy, well insulated suit that reminded Jackson of photographs from the 2050s early Mars missions. He double checked the thrusters then also put on an EV suit, tugging it over his day uniform. He hunted for the largest bubble to fit over his head.

“Captain?” Kym said, half with curiosity and half with dread, her feet dangling above the deck. She gripped a rail along the upper bulkhead to ensure she didn’t bang her head on the roof.

“You’re going first, Byrd.”

“Sir, I hate spacewalks. They make me sick to my stomach.”

“That’s why you’re out first.” Jackson couldn’t see any other way to get inside Maria Mitchell from the Osprey. “Everyone, stand by for depressurization. All the equipment locked down?” Jackson asked, giving another glance around the cabin. The only thing floating were the people.

When he was sure everyone’s helmet was secure, their oxygen was flowing, and each person had a carabiner attached to the safety line, Jackson reached for a lever high out of easy, accidental reach. He gave it a tug to open an air valve. With helmets on the only sounds were that of themselves all breathing or talking, so the hissing didn’t add to anyone’s anxiety, this time.

Jackson unlocked the door, turned the wheel, then pushed hard. The hatch slid to one side. Before them the underbelly of the ship shielded them from anyone’s view. The Osprey held its position a few meters from the open space doors.

“Head out, Byrd,” he told the engineer. She peered over the threshold and froze. “Byrd.”

“I can’t do it. I can’t!”

“I’ll go first, Captain,” Shellie Barone offered. “I’ve done this a dozen times. It’s a piece of cake. I can help from the other side.”

Kym Byrd thrust herself back into the cabin at those words and grabbed on fast to the hand railing. Jackson thought about ordering Byrd through first, but to hell with orders. He just had to get back on board his ship.

“Very well, Barone, thank you for volunteering. Out with you,” he said. She clipped her carabiner in front of Byrd’s and drifted out of the Osprey. Climbing hand over hand, upside down and sideways, she crept along the cable holding the Zlōger ship. One meter, two meters, and three meters. She floated clumsily around the taught line until a foot touched the edge of one of the doors. She put one hand securely on the rail inside that door, disconnected from the tow line, and hauled herself through the gap.

“I’m in!”

“Can you open the hatch any wider?” Jackson asked.

“Let me see,” and she offered a thumb’s up fist before disappearing into the black hole of the shuttle bay. “There’s no one here,” she said. He could hear her heavy breathing; maneuvering in space took energy and engaged muscles they didn’t use often.

“Captain, they aren’t stuck. They’re intentionally on hold in that position. You want me to override?” Jackson gave the idea a moment of thought.

“No, they must be that way for a reason. I don’t want to find out the hard way. We’re going to follow you in.” Jackson turned to Stone.

“You’re up Zoe.”

“I haven’t done this in two years.”

“Time for a little practice, then. Off you go,” he said, jerking on her carabiner and then pushing her just a bit to move her off the Osprey.

“Oh, oh, god almighty!” she shouted, clinging to the tow cable with her entire body.

“Go, Stone, hand over hand, pull yourself to the hatch,” Jackson ordered. She froze. “Go!” Her hand reached out half a meter and took a hold of the cable, then her body inched behind it. Instead of hand over hand she skipped, reaching her right arm forward and letting herself catch up, while her left-hand white knuckled the cable.

“Come on, Zoe,” Shellie called. “I’ll help you when you get here, come on!”

“Okay, Kym, your turn. I want you over on the Maria Mitchell. Give me your clip,” Jackson told her. She complied. Jackson reached out and slapped it over the tow line and tugged her closer to the door.
“Nice and easy, now, Shellie and Zoe just did it, you can too. Follow their lead.”

Byrd had no words. She looked at Jackson, and he smiled at her through the bubble, nodding. She launched herself out of the hatch and grabbed the line as far away from the Osprey as possible. She hopped along like an orange frog, taking the largest bites possible to move as fast as she was able.

“Come on, Kym, we got you!” one of the others said. “We’ll pull you in.” Jackson watched as the orange shape scrambled onto the deck. She couldn’t go very far while her safety line was still attached, so Shellie drifted out the two meters to unlock it for her.

“Ron.”

“Sir?”

“Captain goes down with the ship. Go,” he said, giving the man a hand to back into. Forced forward, he climbed the rope much as Shellie, hand over hand, rolling around it in zero G, until he could grab a door railing. He unbuckled his latch from the tow line and buckled it to something sturdy inside the bay.

Thomas Jackson always enjoyed EVA missions, but he’d never quite done this before. He didn’t want the Osprey to float away, so he took a 6th cable and attached it to the tow line, the other end to the inner hand railing inside the shuttle. There’d be no way to shut the door or turn off the thrusters, but he couldn’t do anything about those circumstances.

Jackson checked the carabiner for the Osprey, then launched off the hatch and into space. He drifted away toward the Osprey’s bow and felt his heart leap out of his chest. He looked down. His safety cable was attached to him but where was the other end?!

He had attached himself to the Osprey’s cable, and the Osprey was attached to the tow line.
“Captain! Stop fooling around and come in!” Kym said over the intercoms. Jackson felt every stiffened muscle in his body trying to decide whether to cramp or relax. Now it was he who couldn't catch his breath.

He grabbed his own rope, tumbled around it and hand over hand he crawled back to the hatch. With one arm securely around the tow rope, he attached his clip to the correct cable and edged his way to the Maria Mitchell’s shuttle bay.

“We can’t pressurize with the door open,” Shellie reminded him.

“Got it. Painter, Byrd, stay suited and haul the Osprey up as close as you can. Signal when you’re done and out of the shuttle bay, and safe in the airlock.”

Jeopardy Chap 7

“I always wanted to fly interstellar,” the captain overheard Ensign Rougeau telling Lieutenant Lee. The S. S. Maria Mitchell maintained its course to the planet with the Zlōger ship in tow.

“I would have been okay with inner-system shuttles, cargo runs, moon routes, tourist cruises, but it was hard to resist applying for this mission.”

“Regrets?” Jackson kept an ear focused on their conversation but continued to examine some documentation on a portable.

“If I did, I wouldn’t talk about it where the captain could hear me,” the young man said with a nod to Jackson and a glance at Lee. Jackson smiled but still didn’t take his eyes off the reader.

“Estimate to planetary orbit, Rougeau?”

“Two point two hours remaining.”

“Did you ever consider Earth Orbitals Retrieval? There’s job security.”

“Space junk? Catching old orbitals for scrap? No thanks.”

“Lucrative business opportunity,” Jackson said. “Last I heard Musk, Inc. was looking for independent contractors. I think there's still a reward out for the car.”

“I wanted to join the Space Corps,” Rougeau said.

“Captain,” Watson interrupted. “I’m getting a transmission from the Zlōger ship.” Now Jackson looked up.

“Put ‘em on.”

“Captain Thomas Jackson,” the robotified voice began. “Some of my crew hope for an invitation to tour Maria Mitchell, and offer gratitude for assistance.”

Jackson didn’t immediately answer. He remained seated and formulated a reply.

“Commander Gug-nich'-a-crik? Thank you for your interest,” he began, looking at each officer in turn. He didn't want to butcher the alien's name. “I would be happy to give you a tour of the Maria Mitchell, if you would be willing to offer the same opportunity for my crew. My engineering team and officers are understandably curious.”

“Exchange of technology welcomed,” the alien said. Jackson hadn’t mentioned an exchange of technology, but that only meant condoned espionage. “We have nothing that hides.”

Where had Jackson heard that before? If it had to be declared out loud, he was certain there was, indeed, something to hide.

“Commander, we would be able to escort three of your crew. Do you have a working shuttle?”

“We have, and we thank you for invitation. We arrive in one-time unit.”

From the doyen’s office Jackson called the armory first, then the galley, and finally sick bay.

“I don’t carry side arms, Jack. Don’t ask me to.”

“You don’t have to keep it on you, but I want you to have resources available.”

“If you think they are so dangerous why did you invite them over?”

“Well, Doc, I’m trying to be friendly.”

“Why let them come here? Can’t you send the Osprey to get them?”

“I don’t want to waste resources and personnel.”

“Why not go to their ship?” Jackson closed his eyes then sighed.

“I can’t show them our ship if they don’t leave their ship. Do you have a problem with laser firearms? You’re still qualified, aren’t you?”

“No, I let that lapse years ago. But tell Wagner to drop one off; I’ll put it in a drawer.” That was probably the best Jackson could hope for from the medical staff.

“Just get shot with your own weapon, now. Oh, and Doc, don’t forget to alter the environment in our common areas. I’d hate for them to, uh, well, whatever you call it when a fish is out of water and can’t breathe.”

“Respiratory distress? Asphyxiation?” Jackson snapped his fingers in agreement.

“I’ll drop by sick bay before they get here,” Jackson promised. He shoved a laser pistol into its stiff holster, and put the belt on.

Jackson and Wagner stood at the airlock listening to the Zlōger ship docking with the Maria Mitchell’s hatch. From the reverberating clatters and clanks, Jackson surmised the blue guys didn’t have a lot of practice docking with another space object. The captain kept his eyes on the barber pole and green light. After the first try, surveillance showed their ship backing away from the hatch, then making a second attempt from scratch.

With a small bump and bang the barber pole snapped, locked, and a red light lit up. The pressure gauge indicator slowly rose until it reached 1000 millibars pressure, the red changed to green, and that time the doors unlocked and opened. Gugnichacrik, Pekeena, and an especially tall Zlōger they’d not met stood in the airlock.

“Captain Thomas Jackson,” Gugnichacrik said with the voice box. Jackson thought of the early, rudimentary artificial voices of AI robots from the Musee de Technologic. The voice had no accent but pronouced all the words with identical emphasis on the syllables.  “You remember medical zlo Pekeena, and this Codenayak, our engine mechanic.” Commander Gugnichacrik held a large box in two of his multiple appendages and offered it to Jackson. “Iridium.”

“Thank you, Commander. And welcome aboard. My ambassador, Mr. Wagner. Come this way.” 

Jackson led the small party toward the observation lounge where the technology was limited and the view unsurpassed, especially compared to a rectangular prism with no windows.

“You have respectable vehicle,” Commander Gugnichacrik said. The other two produced high-pitched sound directed at each other.

   

“Thank you for noticing. I’m pretty proud of her.” It seemed to take forever to get to the lower decks with the hexapedal Zlōgers in tow. Tom wondered why they moved so slowly when a tiny spider could out run him in his mother’s kitchen. “It’s not my personal vessel. It belongs to the people of my planet.” Jackson didn’t want to share too much information.

“I understand. We are private co-op.”

“Tell me, Commander, how did your ship become damaged?” Jackson asked, opening the door, and ushering his guests into the observation room. As each took a seat near the windows, no one spoke.

“We are not certain. We suspect a small space object.” Jackson couldn’t help but raise his brows in surprise that although they originally said they needed medical supplies, but then mentioned needing the tow. They’d not disclosed a cause or description of the damage.

“I would be happy to send one of my engineers over to examine the damage, perhaps get a better idea?”

“For what purpose? Damage done.”

“So, you can avoid the same problem in the future?”

 The Zlōgers looked at each other then back at Jackson.

“You think you can help yes.”

“Wagner,” Jackson turned to the armory officer. “Make arrangements for Painter or Byrd to accompany Bowen to the Zlōger ship and analyze the damage.”

“Aye, Captain.”

“Can we offer you something to eat?” Jackson said, about to tap his mouth but not certain if they understood humans eat and talk from the same orifice, whereas perhaps they didn’t. He’d only met one other species of sentient, space faring aliens that were not bipedal. Mistakes were made; it wasn’t a fond memory.

The blue Zlōgers exchanged glances with their metallic gold and green eyes, blinking and chirping soft sounds.

“We like thank you, yes,” Gugnichacrik finally said through the voice synthesizer. Jackson called the galley and asked for two kinds of food – bland vegetable matter and unseasoned fish. He couldn’t help it that they looked like sea creatures. Indeed, some sea creatures in Earth’s oceans were odder looking than any alien he’d ever met.

“Aye, Captain, just a few minutes,” Bailey promised.

While they waited, Jackson relented and opened a visual monitor on the rear bulkhead. He summoned a visual display of the local star charts for a 30-light-year radius in a sphere around their current position.

“Where are you from?” he asked plainly. Codenaya scuttled up from the table and chairs to examine the image more closely with his glossy eyes. Jackson watched the pupils expand and contract several times against the mottled golden irises. At one point its eyes were nearly all black but for a slender rim of color.

Finally, it lifted a forelimb and tapped an area near the outer edge of the sphere, below the ecliptic plane and beyond their current position, away from Earth, almost 28 light years. When it tapped the star, the computer easily identified it. 

"HYD G8V 1237."

“Hydra, 1237,” Jackson said. “Your star is very much like our own,” he said, tapping Sol, 57-light-years in the opposite direction. 

“No bipeds on our worlds. Some live in oceans and some live on lands.”

“We have both, as well. We have been exploring space for about 200 years. Years, um,” Jackson struggled. That might be harder than hours. The imager didn’t expand more than 50 light years in radius.

He tapped the Zlōgers’ star and the image zoomed to show the planetary system. The only planet in the habitable zone had two moons. He pointed at it, and Codenaya tapped it. Another dialogue box appeared with the planet’s statistics. Its revolution was four hundred three days. “Two hundred trips around the star.”

“We in space for six centuries.”

“And you’ve never come to Earth?”

“Your star isolated by several light years but for a single trinary system and many, dead, brown dwarfs. We have not had reason to travel to where nothing to see.”

Jackson considered they were honest. Many stars were clustered with others but not Sol. Excepting Alpha Centauri A, it was the only G type star for a dozen light years in any direction. Within 100 light years, however, more than 1000 had been mapped.

“Have you met many other space traveling species?”

“Yes, but most are outside of sphere,” Gugnichacrik told him. All eyes turned to the door when Bailey came in with a large round tray of assorted food items that appeared to Jackson something like the food on Cinco, what on Earth that North Americans called sushi.

“I wasn’t certain what you might like, but I asked our galley to make some basic, plain dishes for you to choose from.” While Bailey spread out the assorted bowls and plates, Jackson and Wagner herded the Zlōgers to tables. Commander Gugnichacrik examined the spread quickly and reached out for the garnish of Cinconian seaweed leaves. They conferred with sonar sound and all of them selected the garnish rather than the fish or rice.

Jackson turned his head so Bailey and Wagner couldn’t see the smirk busting out on his face. He actually covered his mouth with one hand to make sure he wouldn’t pass on the discourtesy the same way a yawn could be contagious at a humdrum party or a colorless lecture.

“This a good serving,” their commander said, placing another thick leaf in the opening at the end of what Jackson had originally thought was a snout. Behind their blue guests, the sparkling black view of space reminded him of why exactly he had signed up for space command. His deep fascination with sentient beings, from other planets, that revolved around other stars, drove him from point to point, and this was only the current stop in a never-ending string of discoveries.

“I’m glad you like it,” Jackson said, spearing a cube of white fish in drawn butter. It was almost comical, watching his guests eat the garnishes, but a few decades of working with alien species, not to mention falling in love with one, had given him the chance to perfect at least what an appearance of nonchalance should be when he was truly caught off guard.

“I wanted to ask you, Commander, why you fired on our ship. We really didn’t expect such a greeting. We simply didn’t have time to stop. We are on an urgent mission to stop an asteroid. This delay will reduce our chances of success.”

“We need medicine supplies.”

“Yes, you told me that, but it seems that you don’t. You do seem to want a lift to the planet.” The largest one, Codenaya, could have whapped Jackson into the deck with one good crack from one of his whip-like legs.

“Captain,” Wagner said. “I should attend to the repair party assignment.”

“By all means.” Jackson was alone with the Zlōgers; he speared another butter-slathered chunk of fish with a dual-tined fork.

“Captain Thomas Jackson, we had not other means to convey our urgency. We offer gratitude for not returning fire and offering help to us.”

“I only wish we had more time for this contact. As I mentioned, we are going to attempt to divert an asteroid and time is of the essence.”

“We would like to see how your propulsion mechanism operates. We often look on other species’ technology to improve our own.” Gugnichacrik didn’t have facial features to speak of that Jackson could read. Wanting to see the engine room was better than the armory or the bridge. He stepped to the intercom.

“Quixote, here.”

“Commander, would you be willing to escort our guests for a brief tour of your domain?”

“We’re somewhat occupied with repairs at the moment, sir, but a brief visit would not hinder us significantly.”

Symbiosis: Chapter 30

“Natural Selection favors the more resistant bacteria that adapts to its environs the best and procreates the most,” Dr. Ferris explained.

“It certainly does. Are we ready to get this project off the ground?” Captain Jackson asked his team. Eta Cassiopeia began to peek above the mountains and dawn had just turned to day. Mr. Wagner and Dr. Ferris stood with two Cinconians near the Osprey. They would be the first team to deploy away from base, assigned to the first map point about 3000 kilometers west of their current location. They all exchanged glances and climbed into the shuttle to be delivered to Site One.

While Lieutenant Lee flew them off, Jackson took advantage of the downtime and headed back inside the New Hope building where the climate was considerably more comfortable. Thousands of freeze dried vaccines made on the Maria Mitchell in boxes nearly reached the ceiling. Beside them millions of antibiotic pills in cubic meter containers also awaited deployment.

“Mr. Campbell, Mr. Bowen, I want you to team up with Pasi and be certain that all the necessary materials are available to start producing vaccines here at the New Hope factory. Once the supply list is confirmed, I’ll have the Painter join you to supervise the machining. And, you’re all going by ship, right? Okay, dismissed,” Jackson said and looked down at his planner and the two standing with Pasi, a dark brown Cinconian not much taller than humans.

“York, you and Adams are on Station Two with Akadar at the UMA building. The facilities there should be set up for drug manufacturer and you will have to shut down all other production in favor of the antibiotics. Adams, when that is set up and running, I’ll put you someplace else. They have enough medical staff there to do the job, no training needed, no oversee required. Put all your gear together so when Lee returns you can just jump in and go.”

“Aye, sir, we’ll get on it. Come on York,” Adams said and the two of them began their tasks.

“Okay, Painter, in the meantime, you and Odalis will travel to Station Three for factory repurpose. There are plenty of employees but that’s where retrofitting will be easiest to start production. Get the employees to do the work while you ensure all is on schedule. Then I’ll have you out to check on Station Two. Wagner, you’re here with us for now.”

“Mr. Lee is going to be awfully busy,” Dr. Gregory muttered to Jackson.

“We have to keep this going all day and night until there’s nothing left to do. I can fly a few in between so he can get some sleep.”

“What do you want me to do, exactly?”

“I need a mature team leader for these Cinconians. I feel they lack some discipline to stay on task. Stay here at New Hope and make sure they get these vaccines on transportation to the outer areas, the small towns and rural areas. Ships will be kind of slow, but again, there are places we can’t take the shuttle.”

“Aye, Captain.”

“And remember, Dr. Adams said we vaccinate three with one vial in areas where there are no reported cases. Our supplies will go a long way doing that while the manufacturing ramps up.”

“We’re going to be here more than a week, Tom,” Scott said.

“Maybe. The idea is to get them set up and get out.”

“What are you up to?” Scott asked.

“Besides keeping an eye on the mission I’m going to try and piece this thing together. How our half human mummy and the Kiians are related to both of these planets and a human bacteria.”

“Rianya’s smarts must be rubbing off on you,” Scott jibed.

“If only I could be that lucky. But I am picking up a lot of biology I never knew about before. Come on.” Tom and Scott wandered the corridor until they located their quarters to wait until the shuttle returned. “I brought something you might like to see,” the captain said, rifling through his travel case and pulled out a hard plastic bottle. Using two bowls from a stack he poured fifty-some mils of burgundy fluid into each, and handed his old friend one of them.

“This is?”

“Medicine for anything that ails you.”

“Since when do you drink before noon?”

“Is it still morning?” was his rhetorical comeback. He knocked his bowl against Scott’s bowl and took a sip of the Auchsonian brandy letting the flames trickle down the back of his throat until he felt the essence land hard in the pit of his stomach. Not used to celestial-proof alcohol, he wheezed out a cough, throttled by the unexpected effect and sat quickly in the nearest chair.

“Tom, what in hell is this?” Scott hadn’t touched the bowl to his lips or tasted the elixir and hesitated when he caught Tom’s reaction.

“Fortitude,” he croaked, carefully putting the bowl on a table.

“I think I’ll pass,” Scott said, putting the bowl next to Tom’s. “What’s wrong?” he asked, joining Tom at the table.

“Are you a mind reader like Rianya now?”

“Come on, it’s me you’re talking to.”

“Something doesn’t make sense here and I’m trying to loosen the cement in my head. These people barely have technology to talk to each other across the planet, much less across a dozen light years.”

“You have a point; they’re all about instant gratification. Infrastructure is a mess, health is in trouble, but they seem to enjoy passive entertainment.”

“Precisely my point,” Tom said, clearing his throat of the broiling brandy. “We’ve come all this way to help them, and they’re so docile about it. I don’t understand. They had Pegasi supplying them with antibiotics, so why didn’t they just ask them for help?”

“Profit?” Scott’s gray eyes flickered.

“Yes, there’s no profit in curing the plague. But Earth is twenty light years from here. Why us?”

Tom pushed some items to the back of the table and pulled out a large touch screen from his bag. He drew a circle in one corner and then another in the opposing corner, marking one with a 5 and one with a 4. He drew three squares along the bottom labeling one with an H, one with a P, one with a K. Scott watched on. Before Tom began, he took another swig of the vile brandy to reinforce his mettle.

“Help me sort this out. All right,” Tom began. “We have a couple scenarios as to how Yersinia got here and how Cinconians have been fighting it for decades and how it’s tied to that mummy. One way is if the body infected them, the other is if they infected the body.” The men huddled closer to the table, standing because the tall table and short legged chairs weren’t ergonomically designed for human comfort or function. “Let’s go with the ‘they infected the body’ theory first.” He entered some data on a portable reader and picked up another one.

“Who brought the disease from Earth if not the body?”

“It would have had to be Kiians or Pegasi or another space faring civilization. Earth wasn’t space faring four hundred years ago.” Scott nodded. “Stick with me on this one, we’ll tackle the other scenario when we’ve done this one to the end.

“So at some point Kiians, most likely, came to Earth, somehow contracted Yersinia, and brought it to Cuatro. It spread like crazy and wiped out the primates and higher mammals.”

“Okay, but how did it get to Cinco?” Scott asked.

“The Kiians again, must have taken it there. We saw those illustrations of Kiians killing Cinconians with laser pistols,” Tom reminded him.

“That might explain the research stations on Cuatro that Kiians are living in.”

“But why didn’t the Kiians help the Cinconians cure the plague? They don’t seem to have it anymore, if they ever did.”

“Why would Kiians take a human off Earth and bring him back with them?”

“He’s not all human,” Tom reminded him.

“They brought back a human, then it interbred, so our mummy couldn’t be the carrier. He must be a descendant.”

“Yes, that’s what I’m thinking too,” Tom said while he wrote the notes into a data pad and sat down in the odd chair. “So do you have another idea about the spread of this thing? It looks like Kiians are the culprit. They must have abducted a human for some reason.”

“What about the Pegasi?” Scott asked.

“They came later, obviously.”

“Why couldn’t they have been the vector?”

“You think a Pegasi landed on 14th Century Earth without being noticed? The Kiians could pass as humans if they had to.”

“You got me there.”

“Now your theory is that the mummy brought the Yersinia from Earth. But I can’t see how a mixed race human ended up on Cuatro without help from Kiians or Pegasi.

“So just for yuks we’ll say the Kiians brought a mixed race human with Yersinia to Cuatro four hundred years ago and that’s how they wiped out the Cuatrons. Then some of the Kiians took it to Cinco.”

“You’re right, Tom, that doesn’t make sense. How could there be a mixed race human anywhere 400 years ago, much less 800 years ago.”

“Yet…” Tom said, lightly biting the tip of his tongue. “The body dates to 800 years old. The extinction on Cuatro and the documentation on Cinco support the disease came 400 years ago.” Scott also sat down and the two officers’ faces mirrored each other with glossy eyes and impassive smiles.

“What is the missing piece here?” Tom asked rhetorically, almost under his breath.

“Does it really matter? We just need to get this pandemic under control and get out of here.”

“I need to know the responsible party. I think the Kiians were on Earth, brought the plague to Cuatro somehow, then infected the Cinconians, and asked the Pegasi to help with mountains of antibiotics, and now they have a resistance problem.”

“And so…” Scott hinted. “That still doesn’t explain Hero all dried up on Cuatro.”

“I need to get the Kiians on board here. A dozen humans and a few hundred puerile Cinconians aren’t going to be able to do this.”