Chapter 2 - See Part 1 for Disclaimers.
***
Hudson had a feeling it was going to get ugly. Very ugly. He pulled the files towards himself and flicked the first one open.
---
Forty minutes later, and the opened files outweighed the closed. Hudson was beyond angry. Not one of the UEO files contained any reference to 'Tronia14'. How was he supposed to do any good if his bosses kept the facts from him?
There was a soft knock at the wardroom door and after Hudson's impatient "Come in", Lucas entered. Hudson was also beyond civility. "Well?"
Wolenczak laid down several files. "You're not going to like it, Capatain."
"That I'd guessed, Ensign. What's the news?"
Lucas took a deep breath. " 'Operation Green Belt', that's the code-name for the program which developed 'Tronia14', was terminated fourteen months ago. All of the scientists, with the exception of one, were reassigned to other projects. All materials from the project were destroyed."
Hudson massaged his forehead. "Super."
"Sir?"
Hudson looked up at the tenataive tone of his officer. Lucas rushed on, "Two holes, sir." Hudson frowned in confusion and Lucas hastened to explain, "One; there was a break-in at the lab before they were shut down. Nothing appeared to have been stolen at the time, but it did seem to have been an inside job. That was the opinion of the investigating officers anyway."
"And two?"
"The investigating officers came from Section7, sir."
Hudson's heart bounced off the deck. "Section7. Wonderful." he muttered. He tried to keep his face neutral as he replied, "Good work, Ensign." Hudson swallowed. "Now that we have this cleared up, I need you to help O'Neill with the Communications overhaul."
"Finished?" Wolenczak was incredulous. ""I'm nowhere near finished, sir." He swept on, regardless of the stony expression gracing his captain's face, "I can get them, sir. They won't know what hit them."
Hudson turned away and, trying to stop his shoulders drooping, he spoke softly. "I realise that you and many of the crew have no reason to trust Section7." He ignored Wolenczak's derisory snort. "But you've done enough."
//The sea looks so pretty at this depth. Clear blues and greens.//
Hudson watched as a shoal of mackerel flashed along the porthole - more than likely evading something bigger. He turned back to his officer. "You are relieved, Ensign. You've done a good job."
"But, sir..."
"Enough!" Hudson roared. He returned to the porthole and clasped his hands behind his back. He spoke hurriedly, "You know I lost my commission, my career, because I went against orders." Hudson could see Wolenczak's reflection raise its arms to negate the words, but Hudson carried on, "and I have never regretted that. Not for one moment, Ensign. Not for one moment." He turned around and solemnly regarded his Computer Specialist. "But I would regret losing such a promising officer."
Lucas gulped. "Are you threatening me, Captain?"
Hudson shook his head. "Never. But Section7 will. They have no qualms. They are our greatest defence, Wolenczak. Because they think like the enemy thinks. And no one, not the Admirals, not the Generals, not Secretary McGrath, is willing, or able, to give them up."
"And that makes it okay?" Lucas said bitterly.
"No, not okay." Hudson stepped forward. "Just necessary."
Lucas could have said something, but at that moment the captain's screen flickered into life.
"Another attack. No warning, No reason. Only the dead." The camera panned up over London-town.
"They've done it again." Lucas whispered.
Hudson stared at the screen, not quite concealing his horror. No, not even Section7 would do such a thing. They couldn't, they wouldn't. Would they?
"You said all the scientists from 'Green Belt' were reassigned except one."
"Yeah," Lucas was still transfixed by the images on the screen.
"Who?" Hudson barked. "And where is he?"
"Professor Archibald Garabaldi. Resigned from the UEO two weeks after the break-in to take a teaching post at the University of Edinburgh."
Hudson swiped his PAL from his belt. "Commander Ford, have a shuttle prepped and ready to launch in thirty minutes. You and Ensign Wolenczak are taking a trip to the North Sea Confederation." He shut down the PAL and turned to Lucas. "Bring the Professor back here. At the very least he can help Doctor Perry."
"Yes, sir." Lucas knew better than to argue, and Garabaldi could be of assisstance. He snapped a salute and left.
Hudson turned back to the news report. For the moment, he could try to clear his mind of the pity, the disbelief and the shock. It did not work.
***
Mason Freeman smiled in satisfaction as he looked over the city.
"You have a 10 o'clock meeting with representatives from the 'Moral Coalition' followed by a working brunch with Emmet and the rest of the campaign team. At 1.30 you are meeting with Vice-Secretary Lumous to put forward your constituents' concerns about the proposed land-fill site in an area of historic significance."
Freeman snorted. " 'Historic significance!' A decrepit factory that has been abandoned for forty years, only one step up from a garbage dump as it is. And all because it is the site of the last, what were they called? 'Car' to roll of the production line." He shook his head. "Sentimentality will be the death of us, Sheryl. However, the constituents must be listened to. Did a package arrive for me?"
Sheryl wordlessly handed over a padded envelope, the injunction 'Do Not Bend; Photographs.' clearly emblazoned across it.
Freeman swivelled in his chair, hiding the contents from his assistant's gaze. He examined them carefully, a cruel smile forming. "My, my, Mr Vice-Secretary. I didn't think you had it in you." he muttered, then he raised his voice slightly. "The constituents have nothing to worry about." He stuffed the photographs back into the envelope and returned to face his PA. "And the evening? Have I got a night off from the hurly-burly of the politician's lot?"
Sheryl smiled apologetically, "I'm afraid not, Mr Freeman. There is the UEO banquet tonight at Commerce House."
Freeman laughed. "How could I forget!" he exclaimed jovially. "I'm looking forward to that." He waved his hand dismissing his PA. "I'm looking forward to that very much."
***
It was worse than he had expected. Hudson had known that it would be bad, but nothing had prepared him for how bad it would be.
The medical lab was swamped with patients. The entire deck and three others had been commandeered for the victims of the Aberstad attack. And still it was not enough. Doctor Perry and her staff were working around the clock, trying to make their patients comfortable, trying to save their lives, but so far, nothing could be done.
Hudson moved amongst the crowds clad in a biological hazard suit, as were all his staff, looking for Doctor Perry. He found her at the bedside of one of the victims. A young man, probably early twenties, dark hair fanning out over the pillow, the skin of his face a riot of sores. Perry finished injecting the tube at his arm and took a deep breath. She looked up at the monitor and Hudson realised that her lips were moving in prayer.
Long seconds stretched out.
Hudson found his attention riveted by the monitor. That thin line that showed life and death. It changed, Hudson could not tell if it was for the better or not, but he was aware that beside him Perry was holding her breath. Then the line slowed, evened out quickly and flattened.
Perry bowed her head and reached over to shut off the alarm which had sounded. She picked a minature recorder from a tray and spoke quietly into the machine. "Time of death..." she looked at her watch, "03.04am." She struggled upright in her suit. "Compound L-47 ineffective against Stage 2 of the virus. Patient..." she consulted the chart, "625 responded to initial sera," her voice dropped, "but they only delayed the inevitable." Again, Perry made an effort to control her emotions, "Tissue samples from the heart, liver and lungs required from Patient 625." She clicked off the recorder and remained staring down at the still body.
Hudson knew it was too late, but he had to ask. "Resusitation?"
Perry rounded on him. "There is none." she said in a cold voice. "There is barely anything left to resusitate."
Hudson nodded in acknowledgement and moved to turn away.
"His name is James." Perry said flatly. Hudson turned back. "He was on an exchange program for his firm. He'd been in Aberstad for two days. Two whole days. He was on the outskirts of the city. Took a while for him to get sick." She layed one gloved hand on the body's arm. "He was a fan of the 'North Sea Seals', but he couldn't get tickets to the final. Said he watched it in a bar. Said it was the best match he'd ever seen. But everyone was coughing. Even while they were cheering, they were coughing. And then they saw the news. And he said he knew, knew, he was sick."
"It moves that fast?" Hudson questioned.
"That fast." Perry whispered. She straightened and turned to face the captain. "I need more, sir." she said with determination. "I know what we're dealing with, but it's so complicated. We're having to go down every single pathway for fear of missing something. That takes time that we havn't got. I need someone that's been here before."
"He's on his way, Doctor." Hudson tried to be reassuring. He watched as another gurney was wheeled in, this one baring a young girl, no more than ten years old. "He's on his way."
***
Commerce House was an old colonial mansion that had somehow managed to weather the storms of time. Tonight it was bedecked in the colours of the North Sea Confederation and the South Sea Confederation, the colours of the UEO taking second place to the tragedies that had befallen these two member states.
Secretary McGrath stood at the entranceway, ready to receive his guests as soon as they had passed through the detectors at the door. Most visitors appreciated his personal attention, but there were some who noted the media presence more.
***
Two blocks from Commerce House, Mason Freeman ordered his hover-limo to stop. He shook his mobile WAP in apparent frustration. "Claude, my battery has died. May I use yours?"
"Of course, sir." Claude unhooked his WAP from where it had been charging and handed it through the partition.
"Thank you, Claude." Freeman stepped out, resting the 'phone atop his transport. He took a moment to gaze over at Commerce House lit up so prettily and could not stop himself from smirking. Then he turned to the WAP and sent a brief message. He closed the connection and handed the 'phone back to his driver. Settling himself back in the rich upholstery he remarked quietly, "Don't lose momentum." He fixed his sight on Commerce House.
***
The launchbay doors opened. Seconds later Wolenczak emerged from the shuttle. He looked very tired and decidedly ill-at-ease. He saluted Captain Hudson. "Mission accomplished, sir. Professor Garabaldi, as ordered."
Hudson acknowledged the salute and looked expectantly towards the doors. No one appeared, but there were some muffled thumps from within the shuttle and then sounds, then words.
"... Don't bother about that, laddie, that's just clothes. No, I'll take that! Very delicate equipment that... Get your thieving hands away from there! Thankyou! Now, where's this Captain of yours?"
A tall man appeared at the doors, his arms billowed in an attempt to hold onto three suitcases. His kilt swished as he paused on the threshold and swept the dock with a sure eye. He strode forward, carefully dropped the cases to the deck, and held out his hand. "Captain Hudson, I presume?"
Hudson glanced over the Professor's shoulder to see Commander Ford emerge from the shuttle, rolling his eyes. Hudson quickly focussed his attention on the apparition before him. "That is correct, Professor. Welcome aboard."
Garabaldi shook hands with the captain, but looked beyond to the scurrying crew. He regarded the captain shrewdly. "You're in a right pickle, Captain. Why did you call on me?"
Hudson let the joined hands fall. "I might be the pickle, Professor. But you are the vinegar."
Garibaldi's eyes widened. "It's free?"
"We believe so."
"But, but it was destroyed. Everything. Everything was destroyed." Garabaldi now sounded bewildered.
"Including Aberstad and London-town." There were Mammoths that had been defrosted at a higher temprature than Hudson's tone. "So, I need you, Professor. You and everything that you've got on Tronia14."
Garabaldi followed Hudson, cringing as he saw the patients Seaquest was host to. "I'll do everything I can, Captain..." he broke off as he tripped over a gurney and came face to face with one of those patients. Hudson reached back and hauled him upright. Garabaldi steadied himself against Hudson's arm, gripping it tightly. "We need Reinhardt, Captain."
Hudson glanced back at the nervous professor. "Whoever, whatever. We'll get it."
TBC (I hope)
***
***
Hudson had a feeling it was going to get ugly. Very ugly. He pulled the files towards himself and flicked the first one open.
---
Forty minutes later, and the opened files outweighed the closed. Hudson was beyond angry. Not one of the UEO files contained any reference to 'Tronia14'. How was he supposed to do any good if his bosses kept the facts from him?
There was a soft knock at the wardroom door and after Hudson's impatient "Come in", Lucas entered. Hudson was also beyond civility. "Well?"
Wolenczak laid down several files. "You're not going to like it, Capatain."
"That I'd guessed, Ensign. What's the news?"
Lucas took a deep breath. " 'Operation Green Belt', that's the code-name for the program which developed 'Tronia14', was terminated fourteen months ago. All of the scientists, with the exception of one, were reassigned to other projects. All materials from the project were destroyed."
Hudson massaged his forehead. "Super."
"Sir?"
Hudson looked up at the tenataive tone of his officer. Lucas rushed on, "Two holes, sir." Hudson frowned in confusion and Lucas hastened to explain, "One; there was a break-in at the lab before they were shut down. Nothing appeared to have been stolen at the time, but it did seem to have been an inside job. That was the opinion of the investigating officers anyway."
"And two?"
"The investigating officers came from Section7, sir."
Hudson's heart bounced off the deck. "Section7. Wonderful." he muttered. He tried to keep his face neutral as he replied, "Good work, Ensign." Hudson swallowed. "Now that we have this cleared up, I need you to help O'Neill with the Communications overhaul."
"Finished?" Wolenczak was incredulous. ""I'm nowhere near finished, sir." He swept on, regardless of the stony expression gracing his captain's face, "I can get them, sir. They won't know what hit them."
Hudson turned away and, trying to stop his shoulders drooping, he spoke softly. "I realise that you and many of the crew have no reason to trust Section7." He ignored Wolenczak's derisory snort. "But you've done enough."
//The sea looks so pretty at this depth. Clear blues and greens.//
Hudson watched as a shoal of mackerel flashed along the porthole - more than likely evading something bigger. He turned back to his officer. "You are relieved, Ensign. You've done a good job."
"But, sir..."
"Enough!" Hudson roared. He returned to the porthole and clasped his hands behind his back. He spoke hurriedly, "You know I lost my commission, my career, because I went against orders." Hudson could see Wolenczak's reflection raise its arms to negate the words, but Hudson carried on, "and I have never regretted that. Not for one moment, Ensign. Not for one moment." He turned around and solemnly regarded his Computer Specialist. "But I would regret losing such a promising officer."
Lucas gulped. "Are you threatening me, Captain?"
Hudson shook his head. "Never. But Section7 will. They have no qualms. They are our greatest defence, Wolenczak. Because they think like the enemy thinks. And no one, not the Admirals, not the Generals, not Secretary McGrath, is willing, or able, to give them up."
"And that makes it okay?" Lucas said bitterly.
"No, not okay." Hudson stepped forward. "Just necessary."
Lucas could have said something, but at that moment the captain's screen flickered into life.
"Another attack. No warning, No reason. Only the dead." The camera panned up over London-town.
"They've done it again." Lucas whispered.
Hudson stared at the screen, not quite concealing his horror. No, not even Section7 would do such a thing. They couldn't, they wouldn't. Would they?
"You said all the scientists from 'Green Belt' were reassigned except one."
"Yeah," Lucas was still transfixed by the images on the screen.
"Who?" Hudson barked. "And where is he?"
"Professor Archibald Garabaldi. Resigned from the UEO two weeks after the break-in to take a teaching post at the University of Edinburgh."
Hudson swiped his PAL from his belt. "Commander Ford, have a shuttle prepped and ready to launch in thirty minutes. You and Ensign Wolenczak are taking a trip to the North Sea Confederation." He shut down the PAL and turned to Lucas. "Bring the Professor back here. At the very least he can help Doctor Perry."
"Yes, sir." Lucas knew better than to argue, and Garabaldi could be of assisstance. He snapped a salute and left.
Hudson turned back to the news report. For the moment, he could try to clear his mind of the pity, the disbelief and the shock. It did not work.
***
Mason Freeman smiled in satisfaction as he looked over the city.
"You have a 10 o'clock meeting with representatives from the 'Moral Coalition' followed by a working brunch with Emmet and the rest of the campaign team. At 1.30 you are meeting with Vice-Secretary Lumous to put forward your constituents' concerns about the proposed land-fill site in an area of historic significance."
Freeman snorted. " 'Historic significance!' A decrepit factory that has been abandoned for forty years, only one step up from a garbage dump as it is. And all because it is the site of the last, what were they called? 'Car' to roll of the production line." He shook his head. "Sentimentality will be the death of us, Sheryl. However, the constituents must be listened to. Did a package arrive for me?"
Sheryl wordlessly handed over a padded envelope, the injunction 'Do Not Bend; Photographs.' clearly emblazoned across it.
Freeman swivelled in his chair, hiding the contents from his assistant's gaze. He examined them carefully, a cruel smile forming. "My, my, Mr Vice-Secretary. I didn't think you had it in you." he muttered, then he raised his voice slightly. "The constituents have nothing to worry about." He stuffed the photographs back into the envelope and returned to face his PA. "And the evening? Have I got a night off from the hurly-burly of the politician's lot?"
Sheryl smiled apologetically, "I'm afraid not, Mr Freeman. There is the UEO banquet tonight at Commerce House."
Freeman laughed. "How could I forget!" he exclaimed jovially. "I'm looking forward to that." He waved his hand dismissing his PA. "I'm looking forward to that very much."
***
It was worse than he had expected. Hudson had known that it would be bad, but nothing had prepared him for how bad it would be.
The medical lab was swamped with patients. The entire deck and three others had been commandeered for the victims of the Aberstad attack. And still it was not enough. Doctor Perry and her staff were working around the clock, trying to make their patients comfortable, trying to save their lives, but so far, nothing could be done.
Hudson moved amongst the crowds clad in a biological hazard suit, as were all his staff, looking for Doctor Perry. He found her at the bedside of one of the victims. A young man, probably early twenties, dark hair fanning out over the pillow, the skin of his face a riot of sores. Perry finished injecting the tube at his arm and took a deep breath. She looked up at the monitor and Hudson realised that her lips were moving in prayer.
Long seconds stretched out.
Hudson found his attention riveted by the monitor. That thin line that showed life and death. It changed, Hudson could not tell if it was for the better or not, but he was aware that beside him Perry was holding her breath. Then the line slowed, evened out quickly and flattened.
Perry bowed her head and reached over to shut off the alarm which had sounded. She picked a minature recorder from a tray and spoke quietly into the machine. "Time of death..." she looked at her watch, "03.04am." She struggled upright in her suit. "Compound L-47 ineffective against Stage 2 of the virus. Patient..." she consulted the chart, "625 responded to initial sera," her voice dropped, "but they only delayed the inevitable." Again, Perry made an effort to control her emotions, "Tissue samples from the heart, liver and lungs required from Patient 625." She clicked off the recorder and remained staring down at the still body.
Hudson knew it was too late, but he had to ask. "Resusitation?"
Perry rounded on him. "There is none." she said in a cold voice. "There is barely anything left to resusitate."
Hudson nodded in acknowledgement and moved to turn away.
"His name is James." Perry said flatly. Hudson turned back. "He was on an exchange program for his firm. He'd been in Aberstad for two days. Two whole days. He was on the outskirts of the city. Took a while for him to get sick." She layed one gloved hand on the body's arm. "He was a fan of the 'North Sea Seals', but he couldn't get tickets to the final. Said he watched it in a bar. Said it was the best match he'd ever seen. But everyone was coughing. Even while they were cheering, they were coughing. And then they saw the news. And he said he knew, knew, he was sick."
"It moves that fast?" Hudson questioned.
"That fast." Perry whispered. She straightened and turned to face the captain. "I need more, sir." she said with determination. "I know what we're dealing with, but it's so complicated. We're having to go down every single pathway for fear of missing something. That takes time that we havn't got. I need someone that's been here before."
"He's on his way, Doctor." Hudson tried to be reassuring. He watched as another gurney was wheeled in, this one baring a young girl, no more than ten years old. "He's on his way."
***
Commerce House was an old colonial mansion that had somehow managed to weather the storms of time. Tonight it was bedecked in the colours of the North Sea Confederation and the South Sea Confederation, the colours of the UEO taking second place to the tragedies that had befallen these two member states.
Secretary McGrath stood at the entranceway, ready to receive his guests as soon as they had passed through the detectors at the door. Most visitors appreciated his personal attention, but there were some who noted the media presence more.
***
Two blocks from Commerce House, Mason Freeman ordered his hover-limo to stop. He shook his mobile WAP in apparent frustration. "Claude, my battery has died. May I use yours?"
"Of course, sir." Claude unhooked his WAP from where it had been charging and handed it through the partition.
"Thank you, Claude." Freeman stepped out, resting the 'phone atop his transport. He took a moment to gaze over at Commerce House lit up so prettily and could not stop himself from smirking. Then he turned to the WAP and sent a brief message. He closed the connection and handed the 'phone back to his driver. Settling himself back in the rich upholstery he remarked quietly, "Don't lose momentum." He fixed his sight on Commerce House.
***
The launchbay doors opened. Seconds later Wolenczak emerged from the shuttle. He looked very tired and decidedly ill-at-ease. He saluted Captain Hudson. "Mission accomplished, sir. Professor Garabaldi, as ordered."
Hudson acknowledged the salute and looked expectantly towards the doors. No one appeared, but there were some muffled thumps from within the shuttle and then sounds, then words.
"... Don't bother about that, laddie, that's just clothes. No, I'll take that! Very delicate equipment that... Get your thieving hands away from there! Thankyou! Now, where's this Captain of yours?"
A tall man appeared at the doors, his arms billowed in an attempt to hold onto three suitcases. His kilt swished as he paused on the threshold and swept the dock with a sure eye. He strode forward, carefully dropped the cases to the deck, and held out his hand. "Captain Hudson, I presume?"
Hudson glanced over the Professor's shoulder to see Commander Ford emerge from the shuttle, rolling his eyes. Hudson quickly focussed his attention on the apparition before him. "That is correct, Professor. Welcome aboard."
Garabaldi shook hands with the captain, but looked beyond to the scurrying crew. He regarded the captain shrewdly. "You're in a right pickle, Captain. Why did you call on me?"
Hudson let the joined hands fall. "I might be the pickle, Professor. But you are the vinegar."
Garibaldi's eyes widened. "It's free?"
"We believe so."
"But, but it was destroyed. Everything. Everything was destroyed." Garabaldi now sounded bewildered.
"Including Aberstad and London-town." There were Mammoths that had been defrosted at a higher temprature than Hudson's tone. "So, I need you, Professor. You and everything that you've got on Tronia14."
Garabaldi followed Hudson, cringing as he saw the patients Seaquest was host to. "I'll do everything I can, Captain..." he broke off as he tripped over a gurney and came face to face with one of those patients. Hudson reached back and hauled him upright. Garabaldi steadied himself against Hudson's arm, gripping it tightly. "We need Reinhardt, Captain."
Hudson glanced back at the nervous professor. "Whoever, whatever. We'll get it."
TBC (I hope)
***