Blood & Ice 03 - Carnage
BLOOD AND ICE
by Soledad
For disclaimer, rating, etc., see the secondary index page.
If you think Beverly isn’t behaving in-character, remember “The Naked Now”. When she realizes that Riker has carried an infected Troi to sickbay, her reaction is: “Oh God, you touched her - and you touched me!” Pretty clear where her priorities lay, at least at the beginning of the series. And since this story uses an older concept, I had her reverse to her earlier self, too.
And yes, I know that the Kobali won’t be encountered until Season 6 of Voyager, and that at this time the Federation knows nigh to nothing about the Delta Quadrant. But since Carli’s people aren’t a canon species, they could have knowledge the rest of the Trekkiverse hasn’t. *shrugs*
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
CHAPTER THREE - CARNAGE
Having finally reached Engineering, the remaining members of the Away Team gathered around Hodel’s unconscious form in deep concern. The changes were dramatic, especially in such a short time. The rich, dark skin of the engineer had turned to an unhealthy shade of grey, and his handsome face was disfigured by claw marks, of which blood was seeping.
“Do you think he’s been attacked by some dead crewman, too?” Ryker asked Data.
“Unknown, Commander,” the android replied, “although there is a probability of ninety-seven per cent that your theory is correct.”
“I guess you should have stayed with him, after all,” LaForge said to Worf quietly.
The Klingon’s only answer was an unhappy grunt.
Carli, in the meantime, had switched on hir tricorder and was now examining the claw marks on Hodel’s face.
“He is still alive,” s/he finally said, “and the facial wounds are slowly closing. But there’s something strange going on in his bloodstream. I don’t know what it is. We’ll have to make a full blood screening and a chemical analysis. I can’t do that here, and certainly not alone. He needs to be beamed back to the Enterprise sickbay.”
“I’ll see to it,” Ryker touched his comm badge. “Ryker to Enterprise.”
“Picard here,” their commanding officer answered promptly.
“Captain, there’s definitely something very strange going on here,” the First Officer reported. “Captain Ahrens, whom we thought to be dead, suddenly got to his feet and attacked me. We had to disintegrate him - he just couldn’t be stopped any other way. Not much later Ensign Hodel, too, was attacked, presumably by another not-quite-dead Copernicus crewman.”
“Presumably, Number One?” Picard echoed.
“We could find no evidence, Captain,” Hernandez chimed in. “But he’s got claw marks on his face, and his phaser had definitely been used. A lot. Ten per cent of its energy cell has been drained in mere moments.”
That surprised even the others. The energy cell of a Phase II hand phaser should, in theory, have been able to supply the weapon with firepower for at least a standard week. Hodel must have been desperate to keep firing long enough to drain the cell that much.
“Terrified, most likely,” Carli said, picking up their random thoughts. “He’s burned a sizeable hole in the opposite bulkhead in the process.”
“Can he be questioned?” Picard asked.
“No, sir,” the med tech answered. “He’s unconscious, and his life signs are weakening. He needs to be taken to sickbay and hooked up on life support.”
To their shocked disbelief, it was the chief medical officer of the Enterprise who first protested - very vocally - against that suggestion.
“Julien, we’re not even sure what infected the Copernicus crew, if we’re dealing with an infection at all,” she emphasized. “Whatever it is, and without further information Hodel may bring it to us. The entire ship could be contaminated; that is a risk we can’t, mustn’t take!”
“Are you suggesting, Doctor, that we leave him behind here to die?” Carli asked, hir voice sharp. “What about that oath you Federation doctors have to swear? The one about causing no harm and helping anyone who may need your help, no matter the personal consequences?”
“Are you lecturing me about the Hippocratic Oath, Ensign?” Beverly snapped indignantly.
“Somebody has to,” Carli returned coldly. “I know I’m just a med tech, and just a stupid alien from some backwater planet. But on my backwater planet we don’t let our patients die, just because we might get what they have.”
“There must be a way to help Mr Hodel without endangering the rest of the crew,” Picard intervened, before the professional argument between the two medics could have deteriorated into a full-blown bitch fight. “Doctor Selar, do you have a suggestion?”
“Indeed, Captain, I do,” the calm, even voice of the Vulcan answered. “I suggest placing him into total isolation, with full sano-lock, and sixty days of observation. That would give us the chance to determine the nature of the contamination and search for a cure, while providing the safety of the crew.”
“Do we have the necessary equipment for that?” Picard asked.
“Well… yes,” Beverly admitted reluctantly. “The new isolation labs, recently established on the medical deck at Starbase 211, would do the trick.”
“In that case,” Picard decided, “have Mr Hodel beamed home, Number One.”
“Aye, Captain,” Ryker touched his comm badge to switch channels. “Ryker to Transporter Room Three. Mr O’Brien, lock on to Ensign Hodel’s comm badge and beam him directly to IsoLab One.”
“Transporter locked,” O’Brien replied only a moment later. “Energizing now.”
At the same instant, Hodel’s unresponsive body dematerialized, leaving only a small smudge of blood on the floor where his head had been.
“Transfer complete,” O’Brien reported. “The patient has rematerialized in IsoLab One and put under a quarantine field.”
“Thanks, Chief,” Ryker broke the connection and looked at the rest of his Away Team. “Well, people, let’s go to Medical and see what we can find there. Macha, your people go forth; the rest of us will follow. Mr. Worf, take the rear.”
Hernandez nodded brusquely and moved on, without bothering to acknowledge the order. The Klingon, however, wasn’t moving. He seemed to take count of the members of the Away Team, his wild eyes narrowing in suspicion.
“Where’s Ensign Baldor?” he demanded. “Where’s that treacherous Romulan targ?”
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Dr. Selar, having donned a hazmat suit, did her Vulcan best to reach IsoLab One as soon as possible. She had developed a theory about the nature of the contamination aboard the Copernicus; a theory that was as logical as it was promising dire consequences. However, she didn’t want to cause a ship-wide panic before she’d have found any hard proof. There was a possibility of twelve point seven nine per cent that she was wrong, after all.
In case she was right, she felt it the more necessary to reach the isolation lab quickly. Preferably before her direct superior. Like many others of her species, Dr. Crusher suffered from the very human inability of dealing with a crisis in a logical, collected manner. If she panicked, she’d cause more harm than she’d do any good - for the patient and for the rest of the crew.
Because if Selar was right, they were about to face the greatest medical - and possibly political - crisis since the Federation-Cardassian war.
The turbolift finally reached the medical deck, and Selar stepped out into the corridor leading to the isolation area. Entering the observation room, from which both IsoLabs and the rooms of quarantined patients could be accessed, she felt a bout of very un-Vulcan-like relief when she saw that no-one had gotten there before her. So far, she had things under control.
This was one of the rare rooms - save for the personal quarters of the crew - with an actual window, and she stepped to the window for a moment to look out to where the Copernicus hung in the blackness of space. That was a sight she could never grow tired of: the unfathomable depths, their darkness broken only by the myriad tiny, gleaming dots of distant stars, burning with a steady, unblinking light that was not distorted by an atmosphere, as seen from the surface of any given planet.
She suddenly frowned, her thoughts coming to a grinding halt. Something was not right. Every schoolkid knew that the stars were not supposed to sparkle in the vacuum of space. And yet there was a thin trail of sparkles, seemingly transferring the distance between the two starships…
Thinking quickly as only a Vulcan could, Selar hurried to the comm unit on the wall and hit the button.
“Engineering, this is Doctor Selar. I require a Level Four repulsor field to be put around the entire ship, and that within six point four seconds. This is a medical emergency of Code Red.”
“Repulsor field established,” Lieutenant Clancy, LaForge’s second, answered almost immediately. “What’s going on, Doctor?”
“I cannot answer that question just now,” Selar replied. “I will have to study the tactical protocols first. But I definitely saw something leaving the Copernicus and approaching the Enterprise.”
“What was it?” the engineer asked, her curiosity awakening.
“Insufficient data, I am afraid,” Selar replied. “As soon as I have anything, I will make the facts available on the shared computer boards. Thank you for your assistance, Lieutenant. Selar out.”
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
She had barely terminated the connection when Dr. Crusher stormed into the observation room, also in full hazmat suit.
“Well, where’s Hodel?” she demanded.
“The patient is in IsoLab One, where he is supposed to be,” Selar answered evenly. “Please calm down, Doctor. In your current state of mind your excitement would colour your observations, and that is something we cannot afford.”
Beverly pouted, but she had to admit that Selar was right. So she tried to pull herself together before entering the isolation lab. Fortunately, the complicated airlock system, designed for the exact purpose of keeping the air in the labs - and all pathogens it might carry - from getting out, slowed down the access to the lab to almost two minutes, allowing her to gather her wits.
Transporter quarantine protocols were set so that by beaming a potentially contagious person into the isolation labs the clothing of the patient would be rematerialized separately, in a sealed container. Consequently, the seemingly lifeless body of Hodel was now lying on the biobed in all its unveiled glory, like on the day he was born - revealing some usually hidden yet significant differences between human and Daliwakan male anatomy. Differences that Beverly caught herself eyeing in a somewhat unprofessional manner.
“Save for the claw marks on the face, the body seems undamaged on the surface,” Selar stepped closer to the biobed and started the medical log, studiously ignoring the less than professional behaviour of her superior officer. “However,” she glanced at the readings that appeared on the screen above the bed, “temporary blood screens show a five point seven six per cent decrease of the haemoglobin level in the patient’s blood; reason so far unknown. A complete analysis of the blood gases and blood chemistry is needed to…”
She couldn’t finish her sentence, as the frightened shriek of Beverly interrupted her. Following the shocked stare of her superior, the Vulcan saw Hodel move his hand and scratch an itch on a spot nine out of ten species would have considered private. Including humans and Daliwakans. Then the hand went limp again and Hodel gave no sign of regaining consciousness.
“Interesting,” Selar commented languidly. “It is obvious that - despite the coma-like state of the patient - certain automated reactions of the body are still working.”
“Or it could be just some residual impulse, stored in the neurons,” Beverly suggested, “like the final twitches of an amputated limb.”
“It could, were the patient dead already,” Selar allowed, “which he is not. The instruments still read neural activity in his brain… even though it is weakening.”
“Well, let’s start with the complete blood screening,” Beverly said. “The soon we have the blood gases and the general changes in the body chemistry analyzed, the sooner can we determine the nature of the contamination.
However, half an hour later, when the diagnostic programmes had run their cycle, they still weren’t any closer to a solution than they had been at the beginning.”
“I can’t explain it,” Beverly admitted, reporting their findings - or rather the near-complete lack thereof - to the captain. “Whatever it is that’s affecting Ensign Hodel, it’s neither a virus, nor bacterial. The medical database couldn’t come up with anything even vaguely similar.”
“So we still don’t know a thing about the source of the infection?” Picard asked.
“There’s only one thing that we do know,” Beverly replied. “Whatever we’re dealing with has become intricately connected with the patient’s haemoglobin.”
“In which way?” Picard asked.
“It’s being destroyed at an alarming rate,” Beverly said grimly, “and rapidly replaced by some alien fluid.”
“If the readings are correct, it is the same fluid Ensign Carli has found in the body of the late Captain Ahrens,” Selar added. “It drains the body from all other fluids and initiates a fast mummification process. Once the process is complete, all the victim can hope for is death.”
“I never thought I’d hear something like that from a Vulcan,” Picard said, clearly startled.
“Well,” returned the Vulcan in question with extreme dryness, “I have reason to doubt that the alternative would be desirable; even for humans, with their irrational fear from death.”
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Aboard the Copernicus, the remnants of the Away Team were making their way to the ship’s medical deck. With the turbolifts out of order, it was a rather long and tiresome way that required a lot of jogging down corridors, squeezing themselves through Jefferies tubes, which - according to LaForge - provided a shortcut to the next sector, as well as climbing up an endless number of decks on the narrow steel ladders of the maintenance tunnels.
By the time they reached the right deck, even Worf was breathing heavily. LaForge and Carli were covered in sweat, and Ensign Daro seemed a little greener than usual, which was the Vulcanoid version of a red face. Only Data and Hernandez were unaffected; the former for obvious reasons, the latter because she was tough as nails and did a lot worse in order to keep herself in form on a daily basis.
“Commander,” the android announced, “I am picking up the signal of Ensign Baldor’s communicator. She seems to be within the medical area; right where Doctor Crusher’s scans showed the greatest accumulation of life signs.”
Ryker, who was also sweating profoundly, slowed down to catch his breath.
“Can you establish contact?” he asked.
“Negative, Commander,” naturally - and quite annoyingly - the android was immune against any possible effects of physical extortion.
“It’s possible that she simply lost her communicator,” Carli guessed, but hir tone was doubtful. “Or she’s lost consciousness; she was wounded by that… undead corpse on the bridge, too.”
“Or she’s already joined these… these…” Worf trailed off, seeking for the fitting insult and not finding any; none that would be derogative enough to describe his utter contempt towards the Romulan.
“Zombies?” LaForge suggested with a forced grin.
“What kind of species are we speaking about?” Carli asked in confusion.
“None,” Ryker answered, sharper than originally intended. “There’s no such thing as zombies. It’s just an urban legend.”
“Zombies are hypothetical monsters from human horror stories,” Data explained with scientific precision, blithely ignoring Ryker’s displeasure and Worf’s angry scowl. “They are mindless, reanimated corpses, with a hunger for human flesh; particularly for human brain, in rare descriptions. According to Haitian beliefs, a living person can be turned into a zombie by two special powders introduced into the bloodstream, usually via a wound.”
“What kind of powders?” Carli’s scientific curiosity was definitely piqued, despite their situation.
“One of them is called coup de poudre in French and includes tetrodotoxin, among other ingredients; a powerful and often fatal neurotoxin found in the flesh of the Tetradontidae,” Data was warming up to the topic. “The second powder consists of dissociative drugs, such as datura. A person given these psychoactive drugs ends up bereft of consciousness and self-awareness, yet ambulant and able to respond to surrounding stimuli.”
“Sounds alarmingly familiar,” Carli decided, shivering. “Do you think that was what the dead captain tried to do? To infuse those drugs into our bloodstream?”
“If it was, then both Baldor and Hodel are lost,” Geordi said, “since they were both clawed.”
“Are there any specifics known about the working of the drugs?” Daro asked. He might be just a security guard, but he was a Vulcanoid, which meant a sharp, inquisitive mind.
Geordi shrugged. “Not really; at least nothing that could have been scientifically proven,” he replied. “Speaking of such things is still considered a religious taboo. All I know is that together, these two powders can induce a death-like state, in which the will of the victim would be entirely subjected to that of the bokor.”
“The what?” Ryker frowned, finding the discussion increasingly ridiculous.
“The witch doctor who’s created the zombie in the first place,” LaForge explained. “Who then uses them as slave workers, assassins - whatever she or he needs at the moment.”
“Foolish superstition!” the Klingon growled.
Carli tilted hir head to the side, bird-like. “I don’t know, Lieutenant. There are documented reports of a Delta Quadrant species named the Kobali, that procreate by harvesting the dead bodies of other species, reanimating them and make them one of their own kind. However, I don’t think the Kobali had made it to our area of space just yet.”
“Well, the spreading of the infection has alarming similarities with the zombie legend,” Hernandez said thoughtfully. “Who knows, perhaps even the most ridiculous legends do have a grain of truth.”
“But what is the carrier of the pathogen?” Ryker asked. “I didn’t see any powders when Captain Ahrens attacked me.”
“Are you sure about that, Commander?” Carli asked seriously. “Because I think we have seen something. In fact, I think I’m seeing it in this very moment.”
And s/he stared at the cloud of glowing sparkles that was blocking their way to the main medical area.
“What are these… things?” Word demanded, glaring at the sparkling cloud as only a royally pissed (and very scared) Klingon could.
“I don’t know,” Carli confessed. “All I know is that we saw the same thing after the captain’s corpse disintegrated,” s/he looked at Ryker and Data for confirmation, and the two nodded.
“So, what are we supposed to do know?” Hernandez asked. “We must check what’s going on in Medical, and the only way there leads through this cloud.”
“I think Commander Ryker, Mr. Data and I should go,” Carli said. “The commander and I have already breathed in the… the sparkles, whatever they are. If they are what spreads the contagion, we’re already infected; and Mr. Data is immune by default. The others should return to the Enterprise.”
“No way!” Daro declared hotly. “Baldor is in there, dead or alive; I’m not leaving her behind!”
“Neither am I,” Hernandez scowled. “She may be an arrogant bitch, but she’s my arrogant bitch. I’m not leaving this wreck before I’ll know what’s happened to her.”
Ryker knew how to choose his battles; he didn’t even try to argue with Macha, looking instead of Worf, who gave him an indignant glare.
“I’m a Klingon, sir,” he announced. “For me, to stay behind when my commanding officer goes to battle…”
“All right, Lieutenant,” Ryker interrupted before Worf could have launched into a full-blown lecture about duty, honour and the way of the warrior as Klingons understood it. “We’ll go in together. Data, Geordi, take point!”
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
The android and the man with the VISOR did as they were ordered, and they crossed the cloud of glowing sparkles, holding their breaths to avoid breathing them into their lungs if possible. Surprisingly enough, all they could feel was a slight tickling where their bare skin got in contact with he sparkles. After about ten seconds, they were standing in font of the main entrance to the medical deck; the cloud remained behind them for a moment, then it blinked out of existence.
“Doors are closed,” Geordi reported, checking the control panel next to them. It had been clearly cannibalized, with lots of torn wires hanging out of the wall limply like dead snakes. “Manual override won’t work, either, I’m afraid.”
“But sheer force might,” Ryker looked at Worf. “Lieutenant, you and Mr. Data should try to push them open.”
The Klingon and the android hurried to obey, and with much grunting and growling (on Worf’s side anyway) and with some help from the Rigelian security guard who was a great deal stronger than he looked, they managed to push the slide doors back into their slot within the double bulkhead.
Behind the doors, the main corridor of the medical deck was dark and empty. Ominously so.
“I can smell blood,” Worf growled low in his throat. “It comes from that room directly on our left.”
“One of the labs, according to the ship’s layout,” Data, who had said layout stored away in his positronic brain, supplied. “Should we check the room, Commander?”
“We have to,” Ryker replied. “We can’t take the risk of the crew, undead or alive, falling into our backs.”
“Agreed,” Hernandez calmly set her phaser to kill and ordered the others to do the same. “Worf, Daro, you with me. Data, stay with the others. Your reflexes are faster than anyone else’s; they might need your help.”
Before Ryker, who’d wanted to go in himself, could have protested, the three were gone… only for Daro to come back a moment later.
“You can come in,” the Rigelian said, relaxed. “The place has been trashed beyond repair, but otherwise it’s safe.”
Ryker was quick to follow and entered what had probably been some kind of blood bank or haematology lab, if the containers on the secured shelves were any indication. The place was in a shambles indeed - broken furniture and gutted machinery was lying around everywhere. The containers had been torn open and all blood was gone from them, but at least there were no dead bodies.
“Not now,” LaForge commented when Ryker expressed his relief over that small favour, “but a short while ago there were people in this area. My VISOR is picking up thermal readings; they have barely begun to fade.”
“Where have they gone, then?” Worf demanded.
“I haven’t got the faintest idea,” LaForge shrugged. “We’ll have to check all rooms in medical, one by one.”
“I suggest checking the larger areas first,” Carli said, “like the morgue or the examination rooms. The individual sick rooms, assuming the Copernicus had any in the first place, would be too small for the crew to gather.”
“What could be funnier than a visit to the morgue on the ship of the living dead,” LaForge muttered to himself sarcastically. He seemed to take this zombie stuff far too seriously, Ryker found.
“You got a better idea?” the executive officer asked in a less than friendly manner. “No? Then let’s go. Hernandez, Data, you first. Worf, Daro, you on the rear. Move it!”
They moved, slowly, carefully, further into the medical area, until thy reached the door of what Carli thought would be the ship’s morgue. The slide doors stood half-open, due to the wide-spread system failure aboard, so that they could risk a look in.
What they saw there would be haunting them for the rest of their lives.
Chapter 04 - Discovery
by Soledad
For disclaimer, rating, etc., see the secondary index page.
If you think Beverly isn’t behaving in-character, remember “The Naked Now”. When she realizes that Riker has carried an infected Troi to sickbay, her reaction is: “Oh God, you touched her - and you touched me!” Pretty clear where her priorities lay, at least at the beginning of the series. And since this story uses an older concept, I had her reverse to her earlier self, too.
And yes, I know that the Kobali won’t be encountered until Season 6 of Voyager, and that at this time the Federation knows nigh to nothing about the Delta Quadrant. But since Carli’s people aren’t a canon species, they could have knowledge the rest of the Trekkiverse hasn’t. *shrugs*
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
CHAPTER THREE - CARNAGE
Having finally reached Engineering, the remaining members of the Away Team gathered around Hodel’s unconscious form in deep concern. The changes were dramatic, especially in such a short time. The rich, dark skin of the engineer had turned to an unhealthy shade of grey, and his handsome face was disfigured by claw marks, of which blood was seeping.
“Do you think he’s been attacked by some dead crewman, too?” Ryker asked Data.
“Unknown, Commander,” the android replied, “although there is a probability of ninety-seven per cent that your theory is correct.”
“I guess you should have stayed with him, after all,” LaForge said to Worf quietly.
The Klingon’s only answer was an unhappy grunt.
Carli, in the meantime, had switched on hir tricorder and was now examining the claw marks on Hodel’s face.
“He is still alive,” s/he finally said, “and the facial wounds are slowly closing. But there’s something strange going on in his bloodstream. I don’t know what it is. We’ll have to make a full blood screening and a chemical analysis. I can’t do that here, and certainly not alone. He needs to be beamed back to the Enterprise sickbay.”
“I’ll see to it,” Ryker touched his comm badge. “Ryker to Enterprise.”
“Picard here,” their commanding officer answered promptly.
“Captain, there’s definitely something very strange going on here,” the First Officer reported. “Captain Ahrens, whom we thought to be dead, suddenly got to his feet and attacked me. We had to disintegrate him - he just couldn’t be stopped any other way. Not much later Ensign Hodel, too, was attacked, presumably by another not-quite-dead Copernicus crewman.”
“Presumably, Number One?” Picard echoed.
“We could find no evidence, Captain,” Hernandez chimed in. “But he’s got claw marks on his face, and his phaser had definitely been used. A lot. Ten per cent of its energy cell has been drained in mere moments.”
That surprised even the others. The energy cell of a Phase II hand phaser should, in theory, have been able to supply the weapon with firepower for at least a standard week. Hodel must have been desperate to keep firing long enough to drain the cell that much.
“Terrified, most likely,” Carli said, picking up their random thoughts. “He’s burned a sizeable hole in the opposite bulkhead in the process.”
“Can he be questioned?” Picard asked.
“No, sir,” the med tech answered. “He’s unconscious, and his life signs are weakening. He needs to be taken to sickbay and hooked up on life support.”
To their shocked disbelief, it was the chief medical officer of the Enterprise who first protested - very vocally - against that suggestion.
“Julien, we’re not even sure what infected the Copernicus crew, if we’re dealing with an infection at all,” she emphasized. “Whatever it is, and without further information Hodel may bring it to us. The entire ship could be contaminated; that is a risk we can’t, mustn’t take!”
“Are you suggesting, Doctor, that we leave him behind here to die?” Carli asked, hir voice sharp. “What about that oath you Federation doctors have to swear? The one about causing no harm and helping anyone who may need your help, no matter the personal consequences?”
“Are you lecturing me about the Hippocratic Oath, Ensign?” Beverly snapped indignantly.
“Somebody has to,” Carli returned coldly. “I know I’m just a med tech, and just a stupid alien from some backwater planet. But on my backwater planet we don’t let our patients die, just because we might get what they have.”
“There must be a way to help Mr Hodel without endangering the rest of the crew,” Picard intervened, before the professional argument between the two medics could have deteriorated into a full-blown bitch fight. “Doctor Selar, do you have a suggestion?”
“Indeed, Captain, I do,” the calm, even voice of the Vulcan answered. “I suggest placing him into total isolation, with full sano-lock, and sixty days of observation. That would give us the chance to determine the nature of the contamination and search for a cure, while providing the safety of the crew.”
“Do we have the necessary equipment for that?” Picard asked.
“Well… yes,” Beverly admitted reluctantly. “The new isolation labs, recently established on the medical deck at Starbase 211, would do the trick.”
“In that case,” Picard decided, “have Mr Hodel beamed home, Number One.”
“Aye, Captain,” Ryker touched his comm badge to switch channels. “Ryker to Transporter Room Three. Mr O’Brien, lock on to Ensign Hodel’s comm badge and beam him directly to IsoLab One.”
“Transporter locked,” O’Brien replied only a moment later. “Energizing now.”
At the same instant, Hodel’s unresponsive body dematerialized, leaving only a small smudge of blood on the floor where his head had been.
“Transfer complete,” O’Brien reported. “The patient has rematerialized in IsoLab One and put under a quarantine field.”
“Thanks, Chief,” Ryker broke the connection and looked at the rest of his Away Team. “Well, people, let’s go to Medical and see what we can find there. Macha, your people go forth; the rest of us will follow. Mr. Worf, take the rear.”
Hernandez nodded brusquely and moved on, without bothering to acknowledge the order. The Klingon, however, wasn’t moving. He seemed to take count of the members of the Away Team, his wild eyes narrowing in suspicion.
“Where’s Ensign Baldor?” he demanded. “Where’s that treacherous Romulan targ?”
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Dr. Selar, having donned a hazmat suit, did her Vulcan best to reach IsoLab One as soon as possible. She had developed a theory about the nature of the contamination aboard the Copernicus; a theory that was as logical as it was promising dire consequences. However, she didn’t want to cause a ship-wide panic before she’d have found any hard proof. There was a possibility of twelve point seven nine per cent that she was wrong, after all.
In case she was right, she felt it the more necessary to reach the isolation lab quickly. Preferably before her direct superior. Like many others of her species, Dr. Crusher suffered from the very human inability of dealing with a crisis in a logical, collected manner. If she panicked, she’d cause more harm than she’d do any good - for the patient and for the rest of the crew.
Because if Selar was right, they were about to face the greatest medical - and possibly political - crisis since the Federation-Cardassian war.
The turbolift finally reached the medical deck, and Selar stepped out into the corridor leading to the isolation area. Entering the observation room, from which both IsoLabs and the rooms of quarantined patients could be accessed, she felt a bout of very un-Vulcan-like relief when she saw that no-one had gotten there before her. So far, she had things under control.
This was one of the rare rooms - save for the personal quarters of the crew - with an actual window, and she stepped to the window for a moment to look out to where the Copernicus hung in the blackness of space. That was a sight she could never grow tired of: the unfathomable depths, their darkness broken only by the myriad tiny, gleaming dots of distant stars, burning with a steady, unblinking light that was not distorted by an atmosphere, as seen from the surface of any given planet.
She suddenly frowned, her thoughts coming to a grinding halt. Something was not right. Every schoolkid knew that the stars were not supposed to sparkle in the vacuum of space. And yet there was a thin trail of sparkles, seemingly transferring the distance between the two starships…
Thinking quickly as only a Vulcan could, Selar hurried to the comm unit on the wall and hit the button.
“Engineering, this is Doctor Selar. I require a Level Four repulsor field to be put around the entire ship, and that within six point four seconds. This is a medical emergency of Code Red.”
“Repulsor field established,” Lieutenant Clancy, LaForge’s second, answered almost immediately. “What’s going on, Doctor?”
“I cannot answer that question just now,” Selar replied. “I will have to study the tactical protocols first. But I definitely saw something leaving the Copernicus and approaching the Enterprise.”
“What was it?” the engineer asked, her curiosity awakening.
“Insufficient data, I am afraid,” Selar replied. “As soon as I have anything, I will make the facts available on the shared computer boards. Thank you for your assistance, Lieutenant. Selar out.”
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
She had barely terminated the connection when Dr. Crusher stormed into the observation room, also in full hazmat suit.
“Well, where’s Hodel?” she demanded.
“The patient is in IsoLab One, where he is supposed to be,” Selar answered evenly. “Please calm down, Doctor. In your current state of mind your excitement would colour your observations, and that is something we cannot afford.”
Beverly pouted, but she had to admit that Selar was right. So she tried to pull herself together before entering the isolation lab. Fortunately, the complicated airlock system, designed for the exact purpose of keeping the air in the labs - and all pathogens it might carry - from getting out, slowed down the access to the lab to almost two minutes, allowing her to gather her wits.
Transporter quarantine protocols were set so that by beaming a potentially contagious person into the isolation labs the clothing of the patient would be rematerialized separately, in a sealed container. Consequently, the seemingly lifeless body of Hodel was now lying on the biobed in all its unveiled glory, like on the day he was born - revealing some usually hidden yet significant differences between human and Daliwakan male anatomy. Differences that Beverly caught herself eyeing in a somewhat unprofessional manner.
“Save for the claw marks on the face, the body seems undamaged on the surface,” Selar stepped closer to the biobed and started the medical log, studiously ignoring the less than professional behaviour of her superior officer. “However,” she glanced at the readings that appeared on the screen above the bed, “temporary blood screens show a five point seven six per cent decrease of the haemoglobin level in the patient’s blood; reason so far unknown. A complete analysis of the blood gases and blood chemistry is needed to…”
She couldn’t finish her sentence, as the frightened shriek of Beverly interrupted her. Following the shocked stare of her superior, the Vulcan saw Hodel move his hand and scratch an itch on a spot nine out of ten species would have considered private. Including humans and Daliwakans. Then the hand went limp again and Hodel gave no sign of regaining consciousness.
“Interesting,” Selar commented languidly. “It is obvious that - despite the coma-like state of the patient - certain automated reactions of the body are still working.”
“Or it could be just some residual impulse, stored in the neurons,” Beverly suggested, “like the final twitches of an amputated limb.”
“It could, were the patient dead already,” Selar allowed, “which he is not. The instruments still read neural activity in his brain… even though it is weakening.”
“Well, let’s start with the complete blood screening,” Beverly said. “The soon we have the blood gases and the general changes in the body chemistry analyzed, the sooner can we determine the nature of the contamination.
However, half an hour later, when the diagnostic programmes had run their cycle, they still weren’t any closer to a solution than they had been at the beginning.”
“I can’t explain it,” Beverly admitted, reporting their findings - or rather the near-complete lack thereof - to the captain. “Whatever it is that’s affecting Ensign Hodel, it’s neither a virus, nor bacterial. The medical database couldn’t come up with anything even vaguely similar.”
“So we still don’t know a thing about the source of the infection?” Picard asked.
“There’s only one thing that we do know,” Beverly replied. “Whatever we’re dealing with has become intricately connected with the patient’s haemoglobin.”
“In which way?” Picard asked.
“It’s being destroyed at an alarming rate,” Beverly said grimly, “and rapidly replaced by some alien fluid.”
“If the readings are correct, it is the same fluid Ensign Carli has found in the body of the late Captain Ahrens,” Selar added. “It drains the body from all other fluids and initiates a fast mummification process. Once the process is complete, all the victim can hope for is death.”
“I never thought I’d hear something like that from a Vulcan,” Picard said, clearly startled.
“Well,” returned the Vulcan in question with extreme dryness, “I have reason to doubt that the alternative would be desirable; even for humans, with their irrational fear from death.”
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Aboard the Copernicus, the remnants of the Away Team were making their way to the ship’s medical deck. With the turbolifts out of order, it was a rather long and tiresome way that required a lot of jogging down corridors, squeezing themselves through Jefferies tubes, which - according to LaForge - provided a shortcut to the next sector, as well as climbing up an endless number of decks on the narrow steel ladders of the maintenance tunnels.
By the time they reached the right deck, even Worf was breathing heavily. LaForge and Carli were covered in sweat, and Ensign Daro seemed a little greener than usual, which was the Vulcanoid version of a red face. Only Data and Hernandez were unaffected; the former for obvious reasons, the latter because she was tough as nails and did a lot worse in order to keep herself in form on a daily basis.
“Commander,” the android announced, “I am picking up the signal of Ensign Baldor’s communicator. She seems to be within the medical area; right where Doctor Crusher’s scans showed the greatest accumulation of life signs.”
Ryker, who was also sweating profoundly, slowed down to catch his breath.
“Can you establish contact?” he asked.
“Negative, Commander,” naturally - and quite annoyingly - the android was immune against any possible effects of physical extortion.
“It’s possible that she simply lost her communicator,” Carli guessed, but hir tone was doubtful. “Or she’s lost consciousness; she was wounded by that… undead corpse on the bridge, too.”
“Or she’s already joined these… these…” Worf trailed off, seeking for the fitting insult and not finding any; none that would be derogative enough to describe his utter contempt towards the Romulan.
“Zombies?” LaForge suggested with a forced grin.
“What kind of species are we speaking about?” Carli asked in confusion.
“None,” Ryker answered, sharper than originally intended. “There’s no such thing as zombies. It’s just an urban legend.”
“Zombies are hypothetical monsters from human horror stories,” Data explained with scientific precision, blithely ignoring Ryker’s displeasure and Worf’s angry scowl. “They are mindless, reanimated corpses, with a hunger for human flesh; particularly for human brain, in rare descriptions. According to Haitian beliefs, a living person can be turned into a zombie by two special powders introduced into the bloodstream, usually via a wound.”
“What kind of powders?” Carli’s scientific curiosity was definitely piqued, despite their situation.
“One of them is called coup de poudre in French and includes tetrodotoxin, among other ingredients; a powerful and often fatal neurotoxin found in the flesh of the Tetradontidae,” Data was warming up to the topic. “The second powder consists of dissociative drugs, such as datura. A person given these psychoactive drugs ends up bereft of consciousness and self-awareness, yet ambulant and able to respond to surrounding stimuli.”
“Sounds alarmingly familiar,” Carli decided, shivering. “Do you think that was what the dead captain tried to do? To infuse those drugs into our bloodstream?”
“If it was, then both Baldor and Hodel are lost,” Geordi said, “since they were both clawed.”
“Are there any specifics known about the working of the drugs?” Daro asked. He might be just a security guard, but he was a Vulcanoid, which meant a sharp, inquisitive mind.
Geordi shrugged. “Not really; at least nothing that could have been scientifically proven,” he replied. “Speaking of such things is still considered a religious taboo. All I know is that together, these two powders can induce a death-like state, in which the will of the victim would be entirely subjected to that of the bokor.”
“The what?” Ryker frowned, finding the discussion increasingly ridiculous.
“The witch doctor who’s created the zombie in the first place,” LaForge explained. “Who then uses them as slave workers, assassins - whatever she or he needs at the moment.”
“Foolish superstition!” the Klingon growled.
Carli tilted hir head to the side, bird-like. “I don’t know, Lieutenant. There are documented reports of a Delta Quadrant species named the Kobali, that procreate by harvesting the dead bodies of other species, reanimating them and make them one of their own kind. However, I don’t think the Kobali had made it to our area of space just yet.”
“Well, the spreading of the infection has alarming similarities with the zombie legend,” Hernandez said thoughtfully. “Who knows, perhaps even the most ridiculous legends do have a grain of truth.”
“But what is the carrier of the pathogen?” Ryker asked. “I didn’t see any powders when Captain Ahrens attacked me.”
“Are you sure about that, Commander?” Carli asked seriously. “Because I think we have seen something. In fact, I think I’m seeing it in this very moment.”
And s/he stared at the cloud of glowing sparkles that was blocking their way to the main medical area.
“What are these… things?” Word demanded, glaring at the sparkling cloud as only a royally pissed (and very scared) Klingon could.
“I don’t know,” Carli confessed. “All I know is that we saw the same thing after the captain’s corpse disintegrated,” s/he looked at Ryker and Data for confirmation, and the two nodded.
“So, what are we supposed to do know?” Hernandez asked. “We must check what’s going on in Medical, and the only way there leads through this cloud.”
“I think Commander Ryker, Mr. Data and I should go,” Carli said. “The commander and I have already breathed in the… the sparkles, whatever they are. If they are what spreads the contagion, we’re already infected; and Mr. Data is immune by default. The others should return to the Enterprise.”
“No way!” Daro declared hotly. “Baldor is in there, dead or alive; I’m not leaving her behind!”
“Neither am I,” Hernandez scowled. “She may be an arrogant bitch, but she’s my arrogant bitch. I’m not leaving this wreck before I’ll know what’s happened to her.”
Ryker knew how to choose his battles; he didn’t even try to argue with Macha, looking instead of Worf, who gave him an indignant glare.
“I’m a Klingon, sir,” he announced. “For me, to stay behind when my commanding officer goes to battle…”
“All right, Lieutenant,” Ryker interrupted before Worf could have launched into a full-blown lecture about duty, honour and the way of the warrior as Klingons understood it. “We’ll go in together. Data, Geordi, take point!”
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
The android and the man with the VISOR did as they were ordered, and they crossed the cloud of glowing sparkles, holding their breaths to avoid breathing them into their lungs if possible. Surprisingly enough, all they could feel was a slight tickling where their bare skin got in contact with he sparkles. After about ten seconds, they were standing in font of the main entrance to the medical deck; the cloud remained behind them for a moment, then it blinked out of existence.
“Doors are closed,” Geordi reported, checking the control panel next to them. It had been clearly cannibalized, with lots of torn wires hanging out of the wall limply like dead snakes. “Manual override won’t work, either, I’m afraid.”
“But sheer force might,” Ryker looked at Worf. “Lieutenant, you and Mr. Data should try to push them open.”
The Klingon and the android hurried to obey, and with much grunting and growling (on Worf’s side anyway) and with some help from the Rigelian security guard who was a great deal stronger than he looked, they managed to push the slide doors back into their slot within the double bulkhead.
Behind the doors, the main corridor of the medical deck was dark and empty. Ominously so.
“I can smell blood,” Worf growled low in his throat. “It comes from that room directly on our left.”
“One of the labs, according to the ship’s layout,” Data, who had said layout stored away in his positronic brain, supplied. “Should we check the room, Commander?”
“We have to,” Ryker replied. “We can’t take the risk of the crew, undead or alive, falling into our backs.”
“Agreed,” Hernandez calmly set her phaser to kill and ordered the others to do the same. “Worf, Daro, you with me. Data, stay with the others. Your reflexes are faster than anyone else’s; they might need your help.”
Before Ryker, who’d wanted to go in himself, could have protested, the three were gone… only for Daro to come back a moment later.
“You can come in,” the Rigelian said, relaxed. “The place has been trashed beyond repair, but otherwise it’s safe.”
Ryker was quick to follow and entered what had probably been some kind of blood bank or haematology lab, if the containers on the secured shelves were any indication. The place was in a shambles indeed - broken furniture and gutted machinery was lying around everywhere. The containers had been torn open and all blood was gone from them, but at least there were no dead bodies.
“Not now,” LaForge commented when Ryker expressed his relief over that small favour, “but a short while ago there were people in this area. My VISOR is picking up thermal readings; they have barely begun to fade.”
“Where have they gone, then?” Worf demanded.
“I haven’t got the faintest idea,” LaForge shrugged. “We’ll have to check all rooms in medical, one by one.”
“I suggest checking the larger areas first,” Carli said, “like the morgue or the examination rooms. The individual sick rooms, assuming the Copernicus had any in the first place, would be too small for the crew to gather.”
“What could be funnier than a visit to the morgue on the ship of the living dead,” LaForge muttered to himself sarcastically. He seemed to take this zombie stuff far too seriously, Ryker found.
“You got a better idea?” the executive officer asked in a less than friendly manner. “No? Then let’s go. Hernandez, Data, you first. Worf, Daro, you on the rear. Move it!”
They moved, slowly, carefully, further into the medical area, until thy reached the door of what Carli thought would be the ship’s morgue. The slide doors stood half-open, due to the wide-spread system failure aboard, so that they could risk a look in.
What they saw there would be haunting them for the rest of their lives.
Chapter 04 - Discovery