Chapter Eight: Trials and Tribulations
- Author's Note: Thank you all for reading, reviewing, and following my story.
Thank you also to xyber116 for beta'ing this chapter.
Spoilers for Star Trek: Deep Space Nine, if you are interested in watching DS9 and want to remain spoiler-free, PM me and I'll send you a spoiler-free chapter. If you aren't interested, you should be. It is an amazing show with complex grey characters and dark complex plot-arcs.
If you want to imagine or listen to the Bones, CSI, NCIS etc. "doing science" montage sound-track during the second half of the chapter feel free :)
I don't own the characters or Revolution; I'm just playing with them for a bit for fun, not profit. T for language.
Almost two years after The Blackout
Mary Sue was setting up her new baby – a 20-gallon copper still. It had taken a lot of work on the part of Steven, the Gettysburg blacksmith, and Fred, the CCOG plumber, to put together a still under the direction of Mary Sue. She knew how small stills used in organic chemistry were put together in gory detail, and knew the distillation treatise by heart. She was pretty sure this baby would work and was planning on testing the steam-tightness of the seal between the still-pot and the still-head and for any leaks along the condenser this afternoon.
Mary Sue had attempted to walk home the spring after The Blackout, but had run into a vicious band, evidence of natural selection for the worst in humanity. She had barely escaped with her life and limbs, and refused to think about the incident. Mary Sue was good at repressing. She had simply turned around and returned to the CCOG.
Civilization was returning. The Gettysburg Militia had joined with the Monroe Militia without a fight, and most of the state was under the control of Governor Monroe and General Matheson. The orchard groups moved back out of Gettysburg, supplemented with new spouses and members. This summer the bands of marauders had been mostly hunted out of existence like the feral animals they were. It probably would be safe for Mary Sue to attempt to walk home next spring, but she was in a serious relationship with Steven, the blacksmith, and didn't want to leave him; anyways she should be able to start distilling whiskey and true apple brandy soon.
Mary Sue was carefully greasing the joint between the still-pot and the still-head when she heard a cough behind her. She placed the rag and the bowl of grease down on the still's worktable and turned around. She saw a wiry man with dark blonde hair and piercing blue eyes. He was wearing the special green coat Mary Sue now knew was part of the uniform of an officer of the Monroe Militia. He had two pins with the encircled M of the republic on his collar, she hadn't seen those before, and concluded he must be a pretty high-ranking officer. Mary Sue wondered what the officer was doing out here in the boonies.
"Good afternoon, sir. Can I help you?" Mary Sue asked politely.
"Yes ma'am, good afternoon to you, too. Would you mind telling me were I could find Dr. Hodson, the distiller?"
Mary Sue suppressed a groan. Ever since that first amazing batch of applejack Mary Sue accidentally made by freeze-distillation during that first winter, Joann had taken to calling her Dr. Hodson the distiller. Mary Sue had tried to tell her that she was only halfway through her PhD, and she wouldn't be a distiller until she had a working still. Now she would have to explain to this grinning officer that she was neither of those things, just plain ol' Mary Sue.
"I'm Mary Sue Hodson, and this is my still."
The blonde man smiled politely and asked, "And your husband, where is he?"
Mary Sue sighed, "He is non-existent. The owner of the orchard likes to call me Dr. Hodson the distiller, she says it makes the cider sell better, but I never finished my PhD and my still isn't up and running yet."
Mary Sue could tell the officer was judging her, and finding her wanting, so she stood a little taller, trying not to care.
The officer eyed the 5'2" slim woman standing tall in a well-worn cowboy shirt and jeans and incongruously, sparkly blue hiking boots. This is the distiller the troops from Gettysburg rave about? This little woman is trying to make whiskey?
The blonde continued to smile, but Mary Sue was starting to get creeped-out by how he grinned so broadly but the smile never reached his eyes. He reminded her of Gul Dukat from Star Trek: Deep Space Nine, creepy and smug.
The man introduced himself, "Nice to meet you Ms. Hodson, I'm Governor Monroe and I would like to talk to you about a job with the Monroe Republic."
Mary Sue blinked several times trying to process these two new pieces of data. Mary Sue collected her thoughts and said, "Please call me Mary Sue, Governor Monroe, and I'm not looking for a new job. I like it here at the CCOG."
Governor Monroe's smile fell, his face instantly becoming stern, his blue eyes steely. Yes, very Dukatesque.
Mary Sue hurriedly tried to make a save, "You see, my boyfriend is here, the apples are here, my brand-new still is here, I will most certainly sell the militia anything they wish to buy, and pay my taxes on all I produce…"
Governor Monroe collected himself and firmly said, "You should really hear the terms of my offer before you reject them."
Mary Sue nodded and asked, "Governor Monroe, would you like to sit down to discuss this?"
Governor Monroe nodded, and Mary Sue asked, "Sir, would you like anything, some cider perhaps?"
Governor Monroe nodded once more and sat down on a log as Mary Sue grabbed two bottles of cider that were chilling in the creek; she had been planning on drinking them with Steven, her boyfriend, but oh well. Mary Sue deftly opened the bottles with the hilt of her belt-knife and handed one to Governor Monroe.
Governor Monroe quaffed deeply and seemed genuinely startled by the quality of the cider. It had been from one of Mary Sue's best batches from last fall, and she could tell he was changing his mind about her.
Governor Monroe said, "This is really quite good, what is your secret?"
Mary Sue humbly replied, "The two biggest things about making cider is making sure everything is sterile and having good yeast."
Governor Monroe hmmed and then said, "So, my offer is: we'll move you to Philly, we have a nice warehouse on the outskirts of town, near a pure water source. We'll provide you with all the equipment you need: a still, oak barrels, corn, rye, wood – whatever, you need it, we'll get it. You'll be commissioned as an officer – I was thinking lieutenant – with all the rights and privileges intendant with the position. These include pay, fine housing, a horse, a food allowance, among many of other things. If you perform your job with distinction, you will earn bonuses and may be considered for promotion. You can bring your boyfriend along; we can find him a job, or he can work for you. Whatever."
Now Mary Sue didn't really want to be forced into the militia, she knew from experience that nothing pissed her off quite as much as incompetent or high-handed leadership, and she had heard some interesting things about the militia. She was fiercely independent and went into science partly because of the independent nature of the work. Yes there was teamwork, but it was more like cross-country rather than basketball. Sometimes you helped your teammates, providing moral support or ideas, but mostly you were striving on your own. She figured that in the militia the likelihood of having a supervisor who knew nothing about brewing or distilling would be high, and the possibility of having to train and work with people who didn't have the right mind-set was also high.
On the other hand, Governor Monroe had already shown he was a temperamental man, and it wasn't a good idea to piss off the highest-ranking man in the city-state. Mary Sue would have to somehow convince Governor Monroe that it would be better for her to remain independent.
If there was one thing Mary Sue learned from Star Trek: Deep Space Nine, it was never trust despotic dictators, especially smug snake-like ones with greasy hair and smiles that never reached their eyes. Even if they were charming, and even if they were partially redeemed by a child's love, they still might end up as a Pah-wraith worshipping nutso.
Mary Sue thought for a few more moments, wished she could talk to Joann before continuing this conversation, and then said, "Governor Monroe, sir, you don't want me in your militia."
Governor Monroe's blue eyes became even steelier and he clenched his jaw. He brusquely said, "And why is that?"
Mary Sue paused for a second or two and then said, "Well, sir, I'm not sure if I should be telling you this, but Joann – the owner of the orchard – and I have been working on a network of brewers, distillers, and tavern-owners. Mostly we've focused on trading information such as who has hops or a lager yeast strain, and generally keep knowledge of the trade going. Just a little while ago I transcribed a section of a book on how to turn barley into malt for a brewer outside of Chicago. We've also started using the network to look for loved ones. Almost everyone goes to taverns at least occasionally, and many talk to the owners pretty freely, so tavern-owners are great sources of information."
Mary Sue continued, "Now, if I was officially part of your militia, I'd likely lose my membership in this informal pseudo-secret society or be distrusted. However, if you simply invest in the distillery and maybe loan me that nice warehouse, in exchange for some percentage of the whiskey, then I'd still have my contacts with the network. I might be able to use them to gather information for you, as long as it was subtle and wouldn't lead to me being blacklisted from the society."
Governor Monroe pondered the implications of a network of tavern-owners, brewers, and distillers, and the implications of having a contact within this network. He asked Mary Sue, "How far does this network reach?"
Mary Sue thought a moment and then replied, "I know we've heard from brewers from outside Boston, near Toronto, in Milwaukee, outside St. Louis, and as far south as Charlotte."
Governor Monroe nodded, clearly relishing the idea of the vast information network, and Mary Sue felt more than a bit like Lord Varys the Spider – or to keep the metaphor un-mixed, Garak – and she just hoped that she'd be able to pull this off and maintain creative control over her whiskey, and with whom she worked.
Eventually Governor Monroe and Mary Sue reached an agreement where Mary Sue would move to Philly, the militia would provide the upfront collateral so Mary Sue could get all the equipment she would need and the republic would own 55-85% of the whiskey for the first five years. The first year they would own 85%: 50% to cover the five-year loan for the factory and equipment, 20% to cover the cost of the white oak barrels made by Mr. Williamson, 10% for the cost of the grain, and 5% for the 5% ownership of the distillery. After the first five years, and once the distillery was self-sufficient, the 5% ownership shouldn't be a millstone around Mary Sue's neck. Mary Sue was more concerned about the loose agreement to provide an Intelligence officer with some pertinent information on a semi-regular basis; she hoped she wouldn't rue the day she made this deal with a crazy Dukat-like Governor.
After Governor Monroe and Mary Sue shook on the agreement, Mary Sue impertinently asked, "Why were you so adamant that I distill for the militia?"
Governor Monroe replied with a true smile, one that actually reached his eyes, "It's a gift for a friend."
Mary Sue was confused, but didn't want to annoy such a powerful man any further than she had already. As Governor Monroe walked away, showing off his rather fine ass, Mary Sue thought to herself, how the fuck am I gonna deal with this?
Five and a half years after The Blackout
Mary Sue returned from her meeting with Dr. Brittany Waverly feeling much better. She had a tangible goal in mind; even Governor Monroe would have a hard time finding her plan of making an antibiotic for Miles "Black-Widow stupid."
Mary Sue touched base with Sarah and Jake and went to the Cooper's farm to grab some supplies. She left the farm laden with sandwiches, venison jerky, and an oil-lamp. Mary Sue crossed the Schuylkill River and headed for the Drexel University library. She talked her way past the militia guards at the front doors and went in search of a librarian. Fifteen minutes later she was back outside, walking into Philly proper. The medical library was on the Center City Medical campus.
Mary Sue reached the Hahnemann Medical Library at around noon, and so she took a brief break to pound down a jam sandwich before talking her way into the library and commencing her search for literature on synthesizing antibiotics. She knew the first thing she had to do was some background research into the best class of antibiotic for treating gut wounds, and then find a paper detailing the synthesis of said antibiotic.
Mary Sue quickly found a textbook designed with first-year medical students in mind, detailing the different classes of antibiotics, their mechanisms of action, and common uses. She was astounded by the chemical diversity of the various drugs. She had remembered from Biochemistry that some antibiotics – like penicillin and amoxicillin – disrupt bacterial cell wall synthesis and others like kanamycin stop bacterial ribosomes from making proteins. What Mary Sue hadn't known, was the vast array of different chemicals that could work on different steps along those pathways.
The textbook recommended a combination of neomycin and erythromycin (two ribosome affecting antibiotics) the day before any colorectal surgery and cefoxitin thirty minutes before the surgery. Mary Sue thought it was too late for the earlier dose of antibiotic, but she would look into cefoxitin. From the textbook, Mary Sue learned that cefoxitin was a second-generation Cephalosporin and killed bacteria by stopping cell wall synthesis. The first generation Cephalosporin was isolated from Acremonium – a slow-growing plant fungus – but it was made more potent and less easy for the bacteria to be resistant to it by chemically modifying the base antibiotic which was called Cephalosporin C.
Armed with this information Mary Sue walked over the stacks containing the New England Journal of Medicine. How she missed PubMed, and being able to search the whole breadth of the literature with just a simple computer search. She would have to look through the table of contents of each issue, looking for pertinent title, and then use that article's references to work her way back into the literature.
Luckily, it wasn't too bad. She was able to find an article on MRSA in one of the last New England Journal of Medicine issues ever published. The strain of Staphylococcus discussed in this article was resistant to cefoxitin, and there was a citation for a review article, huzzah! Mary Sue tracked down the journal and issue and took the magazine and her oil-lamp over to a study-carrel.
Mary Sue sat down at the study-carrel and opened the journal to the review article. She read the abstract and then pulled out some jerky, wishing she had a mug of chai and a pen and paper with which to take notes.
She soon learned about the pharmacokinetics, contraindications, dosage for the obese, but nothing about the synthesis of cefoxitin.
She took a look at the references, oh! There was an article on Antibiotics in tactical combat casualty care in the journal of Military Medicine. She got up to search the stacks for that journal. After a futile hour of searching, Mary Sue gave up. Either Drexel University didn't have a paper copy of that journal, or they had been taken or burned during the tumultuous transition. The militia was strict about protecting their knowledge now, but before there was order, chaos reigned.
Mary Sue went back to the review to get another paper to look up. None of the titles had anything about the synthesis or isolation of cefoxitin but there was an article entitled Cephalosporins in surgical prophylaxis. She did find that journal. Eventually. Finding academic papers was so much easier Before, thought Mary Sue. Still nothing about the synthesis of cefoxitin.
This directly led her to an article in a journal informatively called Surgical Infections that stated cefoxitin was good for potential infections, but a different antibiotic – imipenem was needed for moderate-to-severe intra-abdominal infections. Okay, back to the beginning. WWKD? There was no power in the 'verse that could stop Kaylee from being cheerful. Mary Sue would get this done.
Mary Sue returned to the textbook to find out more about imipenem. Once Mary Sue had the background info on imipenem, she returned to the sepsis paper to find journal articles. Mary Sue followed the web of science down, deep down, with each layer learning more about clinical practices, but still nothing about isolating the core molecule and synthesizing a derivative that would save Miles' life.
Out of the corner of Mary Sue's eye she noticed an off-hand mention of Merck in the declaration of Conflicts of Interest section of the paper. The Merck Index! How could she be so stupid! She was a chemist and should have thought of this like a chemist, not a doctor. The Merck Index would have a citation to the chemical synthesis of the compound, if it was published.
Mary Sue took a brief break to stretch and looked outside, it was dark. She took her oil-lamp and began looking for the Merck Index. Most medical libraries had it in the reference section along side Grey's and the special dictionaries. She found the Merck Index and opened it up to the I's. She leafed through until she found imipenem. The page contained a lot of chemical information such as the formula and solubility of imipenem but there was no citation for synthesis or isolation. Stymied again!
Mary Sue went back to textbook and looked up the chemical parent of imipenem. It was thienamycin, which was derived from Streptomyces cattleya. She looked up thienamycin in the Merck Index. Success! There were several papers on the synthesis of thienamycin and a 1979 paper on the isolation from the soil bacteria. Mary Sue collected those papers and placed them on her study-carrel. She packed up her stuff and walked back to the distillery. Judging by the bar crowds, it was maybe three am, and she would need to get some sleep and then trade for some paper. The guards were strict about taking any knowledge out of the library, and she'd need detailed notes.
Mary Sue walked back to the distillery and fell into bed without taking off her clothes. She got up the next morning to the sounds of Jake, Sarah, and Hodor working in the distillery. She washed her face, found a tray of food at her door, ate it, grabbed the sack of food beside it and a fifth of applejack. Mary Sue stopped at the square to barter her applejack for homemade paper - fifteen full sheets - and returned to the Medical Library.
Mary Sue looked for thienamycin in the textbook and couldn't find it. She went back to the Merck Index and realized that thienamycin degraded in water and thus was useless medically. Mary Sue sighed. WWKD? She took the article about treating abdominal infections and brought it over to the Merck Index. She looked up each antibiotic suggested for the treatment of moderate-to-severe abdominal infections in the Merck Index and eventually found one that also had a citation for synthesis: Meropenem. Thank God.
Mary Sue found the cited paper and examined the synthesis. She could do this. The biggest issue would be finding the starting product. The various reagents would be hard to find, but not impossible. All she needed was hydrofluoric acid, acetonitrile, hydrochloric acid, dioxane, sodium bicarbonate, and ethyl acetate. She could do this for Miles. She carefully put way all of the other journals and double-checked that she had transcribed everything correctly before setting off to dig through the Drexel chemistry building to look for the reagents.
Five and a half years after The Blackout
Mary Sue was bent over a small fire underneath a round-bottomed flask. The flask and fire were in a hood with a partly lowered sash and Mary Sue was wearing splash goggles and a lab coat – old habits die hard. Mary Sue was in the process of making one of the precursors to the starting product of the synthesis of meropenem.
It was a long process, and Mary Sue had been sleeping in the coffee room of this Drexel chemistry lab. Every four days Sarah came by, dragged her to dinner – with real veggies – and had Mary Sue take care of the parental growler of yeast. And then Sarah would have the audacity to force Mary Sue to get a full night's sleep.
Mary Sue heard a cough behind her. It couldn't be four days yet, could it? She turned around, and instead of seeing Sarah or Jake, she saw Bass. He was travel-worn, scruffy, but smiling – a true eye-creasing grin.
Mary Sue absentmindedly rotated the flask out of the flames before running and giving Bass a hug.
"He's okay?!" she exclaim-asked.
Bass awkwardly returned the hug, not really wanting to get what ever chemicals Mary Sue had on himself, "He's okay."
Mary Sue sighed a huge breath of relief.
"He's okay." Bass repeated.
Mary Sue let go of Governor Monroe and brushed off the white powder she had transferred to his black jacket, "Where is he? How is he? How did you know I was here?"
Bass started with the last question first, "You did browbeat the guards into letting you have free access by saying you were Dr. Hodson on a mission for General Matheson, you did think that eventually they'd confirm your story with Major Hudson, right?"
Mary Sue nodded; really, she hadn't been thinking about much more than eliminating any hurdles standing between her and making this antibiotic that would save Miles.
Bass continued, "Miles is doing okay. It was touch-and-go for a while there, but his body is strong and fought off the infection. He still has quite a way to go before he's all better, but he is out of the woods. He is traveling by wagon – a special wagon with good springs – to ensure he doesn't reopen his wound. I rode ahead to let you know." And, more importantly, run the Republic, but that was left unsaid.
"Where is he, can I go see him?" Asked Mary Sue.
Bass nodded, "You can go with the next messenger I send." Mary Sue went to go clean up her synthesis, and get ready to ride at a moment's notice.
Bass called after her, "Wait, wait, wait. What is it you were doing here? Trying to make a miracle drug? Didn't I expressly tell you not to do something stupid?"
Mary Sue turned back to Bass, "Hey! Making an antibiotic isn't 'Black-Widow stupid' Black-Widow would have ridden off to New Jersey, killed the man who hurt her man, and whoever was in charge of it, and then made sweet love her injured man. I did something Mary Sue smart."
Bass quirked a smile at Mary Sue and her spiel, "Did it work? Did you make the antibiotic?"
Mary Sue grimaced, "No, I was at least 2 months away from actually making the antibiotic. Organic syntheses take a long time, especially when you have to jerry-rig everything. Intellectually I knew I probably wasn't gonna make it in time, but what was I supposed to do? Stand around waiting for a train that ain't commin' or make whiskey that I knew Miles would never get to enjoy? No, not me."
Bass smiled and nodded. No sir, Mary Sue wasn't a passive wall-flower, he learned that the first time Mary Sue and Miles butted heads over the distillery.
- Author's Note: Reviews and constructive criticism are greatly appreciated :)
