Ch. 10 - Despair is the Solace of Fools – Benjamin Disraeli

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Kara scrubbed at her hands using the alcohol swabs that Doc Rios had procured from his medical kit. But no matter how many times she cleaned her hands, she couldn't erase the sight of Quincy pulling off the clamp closing his wound, the arch of blood shooting up as he collapsed onto the floor, or the sound of Kelly's horrified scream, followed by anguished sobs as the woman watched the husband she reunited with only a weeks prior bleed to death on the floor.

Pressing her lips together firmly, Kara fought back a wave of nausea, confused and angered by her reaction. Quincy wasn't the first person she had watched die – far from it. After all, the Nathan James had provided support to teams of Marines and SEALs stationed in Iraq and Somalia – some of the deadliest places on the planet even before the virus hit. As a med tech, Kara had seen her share of serious injuries, and deaths, as soldiers were brought aboard to be stabilized before transportation elsewhere could be arranged, and in the three months since leaving the Arctic she had attended so many funerals – Benz, Berchem, Smith, Cossetti, Gibson – that she could no longer differential between them in her mind.

But Quincy's death felt different. Not just because Quincy was a civilian or because he was betrayed and shot by someone he trusted, but because Quincy sacrificed himself for them. Quincy must have known, like Kara and Slattery and everyone else on the bridge, that as soon as Norris got his hands on the primordial strain he would have no further use for the crew of the Nathan James. Quincy died saving Kelly, but his death also bought everyone on the Nathan James the time they needed to find out a way to take back their ship.

Just like Frankie.

Well, actually, not just like Frankie. Frankie knew that he was a dead man walking, that nothing could be done to help him, and he made the choice not to expose anyone else to the deadly germs he carried. Quincy could have given Norris the primordial strain and the lieutenant probably would have let him live; maybe even let Kelly live. After all, Quincy was a virologist, one who worked with Doctor Scott for years and helped develop the cure. He was useful in a way that the run-of-the-mill sailor on the Nathan James was not. But Quincy chose a different path, one that gave every person aboard the Nathan James another chance.

And, somehow, that made his death a thousand times harder to bear.

Before today, Kara had failed to understand why Frankie's death shook Danny so profoundly. She thought she did, of course. While Danny mourned the loss of every member of his team, he and Frankie were more like brothers than friends, their lives tightly interwoven. But there was a missing piece that Kara didn't understand, that she would not have been able to comprehend until now. Danny had reacted more intensely to Frankie's death not only because of the shocking loss of a man who he viewed as a brother or because Frankie died by his own hand, but because not all of Danny's emotions had been grief. Kara now understood, because mixed in with the horror and sorrow of Quincy's loss, she felt a sense of relief. Relief that Quincy chose to sacrifice himself rather than turn over the primordial strain. Relief that he bought them – bought her – additional time to escape. Relief that she was still alive (for the moment, anyway). And guilt. Guilt that she was feeling relief when Quincy was dead.

How much worse would that guilt have been for Danny? Guilt over the relief he felt knowing that he had not been exposed, and that he could return to the Nathan James without risk of exposure when his best friend, his brother, was dead.

"Do you need to sit down Kara?" Timothy Rios asked quietly, touching her hand for the briefest of moments, causing Kara to realize that she was trembling.

She glanced toward Tim, wondering at his solid presence – that was what made him an excellent medic, of course, steady head and hands under pressure – unable to explain the myriad emotions tumbling through her mind. "They just tossed his body overboard."

Tim paused, as though he too was struggling to find a way to deal with the situation. "We have to stall them until….."

Until the Captain arrives. The unspoken words hung between them as Norris stormed onto the bridge. Slattery stepped in front of Kara, Rios and Gator, a position that made no difference as two of the officers headed directly towards him.

"Lock this asshole in the chart room," Norris sneered before fixing his view on Kara, a grim smile forming on his face. Uneasy, her eyes locked on Norris, Kara barely noticed as Slattery was forced into the small room to the side of the bridge. "He tries to come out of there, you shoot him. Lieutenant Foster, you're going on a little trip."

What?! With a sharp intake of breath, Kara stepped back from the officers who, finished with Slattery, were now advancing on her. "N-no, wait ... no!"

"Hey! Wait!" Tim tried to intervene, only to be pushed back roughly.

Kara struggled as the men dragged her from the bridge, Tim and Gator's shouts quickly fading behind them. Kara slammed her heel into one of the officer's foot. "Get your hands off of me!"

Ignoring her struggles, Norris gave her another creepy smile, one that chilled her to the bone. "Mrs. Granderson wants to see you."

Her queasiness returned in full force as Kara connected the dots. She was leverage, just like Kelly.

They must have found Danny.

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As the SUV took another corner far too quickly, Kara cynically wondered what her guards would do if she vomited all over their seats. They had shackled her hands behind her back before tossing her into the rear seat of the vehicle, failing to latch her seatbelt and giving her no ability to hold herself in one place – something that she learned the hard way when the SUV picked up speed. Of course, knowing her luck, if she did vomit, she would miss the guards entirely and puke on herself, which meant that she would smell like vomit for the rest of the day. Just the though was enough to make Kara gag.

Given the delicate state of her stomach, Kara was both relieved and anxious when the SUV pulled up before a steel and glass building labeled Avocet. Rubbing her wrists as feeling began to return from the too-tight cuffs, Kara scowled at the guards who continued to ignore her as they yanked her out of the SUV and towards the towering building.

"Let me go! Let me go! Get your hands off me!"

Under other circumstances, Kara would have admired the open layout of the building, a wall of windows allowing light to pour into the corridor, the stone floors and light walls giving the building a sleek and modern look. But despite the bright interior, the atmosphere was solemn, the people Kara passed as she was half carried, half dragged through the hallways careful to keep their eyes down and their attention elsewhere, their reluctance to become involved clear. Kara's heart sank as she realized, whether due to fear or indifference, she could expect no assistance from those within Avocet.

After walking for several minutes, the guards suddenly stopped before a thick wooden door. Upon gaining entrance, Kara's first instinct was to search the room for Danny, a wave of relief passing through her as she determined that he was not here – that Mrs. Granderson would not be able to use Kara against Danny as Norris used Kelly against Quincy. But even as he body began to relax, Kara realized, with mounting terror and horror, why she was here.

This had never been about Danny.

They wanted the baby.

"No! No! Stop! No! Stop!"

The frenzied screams burst from Kara's throat, any pretense at calm gone as she fought against her guards with every bit of strength she possessed, her only goal to somehow escape.

To save her baby from these lunatics.

A short Asian man turned, absolutely no emotion on his face as Kara was dragged, kicking and screaming, into the room. "Get her on the table. Warm up the equipment."

Tears flooded Kara's eyes and began streaming down her face as she was tossed onto the examination table, her arms and legs quickly strapped down. She turned towards a dark-skinned woman dressed in scrubs – a nurse perhaps – and the only person in the room who appeared to have any concerns about what was happening, catching the woman's gaze. "Help me!"

A flicker of uncertainty crossed the woman's face, but the man in charge turned his cold stare towards the nurse, who immediately dropped her gaze from Kara. "Take her coveralls off."

"Help me! Stop! Please!"

After fiddling with Kara's coveralls for a minute, the woman stopped, hands trembling. "I can't unhitch them."

"Just open them up," the leader snapped, tearing Kara's shirt open with enough force to pop the snaps. After stuffing a rag so far into Kara's mouth that she could feel it against the back of her throat, he leaned over her until he was close enough for her to smell his rancid breath.

"Calm down! Lieutenant! Listen to me! Do you want to save your baby? Because I haven't done surgery since medical school. So if you want at least one of you to survive, I'm going to need you to calm down and sit still. Do you understand?"

Kara stared into his emotionless face, knowing that he was lying. There was an unnatural gleam in his eyes as he looked at her, one which reflecting his depravity. He wasn't just indifferent to what he was doing.

He was excited.

This man did not care what happened to Kara or her child. All he cared about was getting the stem cells he needed to recreate the vaccine, and it didn't take much medical knowledge to know that the easiest way to do that was simply to remove the fetus and gather the desired tissue. But even knowing that this evil man's was lying to gain her cooperation, she had little choice but to acquiesce to his request. Kara forced herself to stop screaming, recognizing that she was expending energy fighting a useless battle when she should be focusing on any opportunity to escape.

Willing herself not to cry, Kara stared at the ceiling as her clothing was roughly pushed aside and an assistant rolled an ultrasound machine towards the edge of the table. For the first time since she was eight, when Debbie told her without any preamble that her father was dead and asking God to send him home was pointless, Kara prayed.

She prayed that the door would swing open and Danny would burst through, guns blazing, her white knight here to save her.

She prayed that that Rachel or Alisha would learn what was happening and convince Mrs. Granderson to stop the procedure.

She prayed that Captain Chandler would retake the Nathan James and Commander Slattery would send a team to rescue her.

But as the tears crept down her face and the nurse spread gel on her belly, Kara knew that no one was coming – because none of them knew she was here.

All she could do was pray for a miracle.

The wand from the ultrasound machine moved against her stomach and, wondrously, Kara heard her baby's heartbeat for the first time. Rachel had tried to find it with the stethoscope several days before with no luck, finally concluded that it was too early for the equipment that they had on board to pick it up. Kara listened intently to the steady thump thump thump, knowing that, at least for the moment, her little one was still there. Still alive. Still safe. A few motions of the wand later, a picture appeared on the monitor above them and an image of the baby appeared, the infant's tiny arms waving at her as though to say hello. Even as she marveled at the sight, though, Kara could not help but wonder if this would be both her first and last time seeing her child.

Moving closer, the lunatic mumbled to himself as he carefully lined the needle up and began pressing down into her stomach, ignoring Kara's sharp intake of breath as the needle moved through skin and muscle. Despite the wave of nausea that the pain in her stomach brought, Kara kept her eyes fixed on the monitor. She needed to watch, to see where the needle went, and to take in every second that she had with her baby.

And to know if there was still a heartbeat at the end.